Summer Evenings
by Anonymous.Publishers
Summary: A tragedy twister. Known to make the sensitive and even the insensitive cry--read at your own risk.
1. The Blackout

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following characters. Original plot.**

**Authors note: This was my first Huddy fiction, first introduced on fanpop. Feedback was great, now I wanna know what others think. Reviews are welcomed.**

* * *

_The summer nights weren't always this bad. They were normally filled with a simple yet satisfying warmth that roamed in the air and eased on our skin. There would be a fresh aroma of cut lawns and emerald trees, refreshing to inhale-to replenish ourselves. Sounds of children's laughter, echoing through the day and the night as they ran freely and carelessly across their lawns and pavements. But not tonight. Tonight was one of those nights we spent trembling under the fury of lightning and thunder and the sadness of the rain. Tonight we had to hear them bicker and scream, and fight. Despite all this, something else was to occur. This would be an unusual evening. One, I find to believe unsettling--in many ways._

House's apartment was fairly quiet. His phone, as usual, was off the receiver. It appeared to be no where in the entire living room, signifying he had left it elsewhere at a different time.  
House had gone through about nearly seven shots of scotch before passing out on the floor. He was sprawled out, his arm and leg residing on the couch while the rest of his body resisted and pulled by gravity, dragged onto the floor.  
The poor fellow was dreaming in the trance he was in. He had a fairly good amount of REM as he slept, his breath, almost silenced on the wooden floor. He appeared to be dreaming of something, fairly exciting--worth dreaming.  
But this dream had ended once insistent raps sounded from the door. They echoed through this lonely apartment, slowly, and readily.  
His eyes shot open, unaware of what was going on. His eyes drooped, as if his eyelids were weights on his eyes and he rose from the floor. He needed to stop the penetrating knocks that were unsettling to the mind; his delicate mind.  
He slowly opened the door, slightly aggravated as he wiped his face down, attempting to properly wake up.

"Gregory House, its wonderful to meet you," he uttered with a hoarse voice.  
"I take it you've been drinking?" Lisa Cuddy replied.  
"Let me guess, the way I am standing, the way I'm clinging for balance against the door or--option three which should ease your expression."  
"Your breath. Couple shots of scotch."  
"Couple, few, several. All the same, just different by value."  
"Am I going to come in or you waiting on your other hooker to arrive?"  
"No, I set all my appointments prior to the times I think you're going to check up on me."

She walked in and scanned the room before her: the usual House pad it always was. She just stood in a motionless position as he moved around her, making his way back to the couch for shot number eight.

"You come here straight from work?" he asked as he poured out the scotch. She gave a nod.

Outside the thunder and lightning fought here and there. Streaks of bright light shot across the sky and rumbles of fury replied. Rain just fell, but heavily.

"I didn't expect it to get this bad."  
"Your assumption was wrong." he retorted, almost mockingly.  
"Why are you here?" he continued as he threw back the tenth shot.  
"I figured, you take a few days off, and then change it to a vacation, and apparently I was right, judging on the looks of what you've done with yourself for the past five days."  
"So, you've come here to bring me back?"  
"No."  
"You've come to yell."  
"No."  
"You've come to bribe me back."  
"No. Just irritate you till you break."

A loud crack of thunder rumbled after a bright and blinding lightning had struck down onto the Earth. And then, darkness.

"Damn. Its okay, I got a flashlight and a candle. Somewhere.."  
"I got candle you get a flashlight."  
"We actually need one to find the other," he retorted sarcastically.  
"Just come on."

Cuddy slipped off her high heeled shoes and put down her things, along with her jacket and ran around barefoot.

"Who knew that finding a candle, a flashlight--"  
"--and a match or lighter,"  
"Would be slightly hard to find," House finished.  
"It's a blackout, I'm not surprised we haven't found anything or even each other yet."  
"I know where you are."  
"By my voice. You don't know where I physically am."  
"I know your in the kitchen, based on the echo of your irritated voice. Got the candle."  
"Found a match. No sign of the flashlight yet."

They both made their way into the living room again and sat down on the floor at the coffee table. Cuddy laid the candle near the edge and lit a match, putting it to a wicker lit flame.

"Why are you still here?"  
"You really expect me to drive out there tonight?"  
"You've done it before."  
"No, I was IN a car while YOU drove, through a storm like this."  
"Granted. But, where's that kid of yours?"  
"With my sister."  
"You left your kid with the bitch?"  
"She was going for vacation and wanted to spend some time with her niece. And I agree. Her and Gary need to spend time with her."  
"Gary?"  
"Her husband?"  
"But you still left her with the bitch."  
"She doesn't hate you, you know. Well, not as much, anymore."  
"Yes she does."  
"Can you blame her? Did you hear the speech you gave at her wedding."  
"Hey, first, I was slightly drunk--"  
"--Slightly?"  
"Very, drunk and second--_you_ invited me."  
"That--was not my fault. My mom invited you."  
"You needed a date, and I just happen to look good in a tux."  
"Granted, however, _I_ did not invite you. I wasn't planning to even ask you, I was going to call up Wilson or something--"  
"But you were glad you didn't."  
"Who knew you looked good in a tux," she smiled slightly and got up from the floor, walking to the kitchen for a glass.  
"What's your sisters' name again? Heidi?"  
"Heather."  
"Close enough," he whined as he threw back shot twelve.

Cuddy came out from the kitchen and walked over. She got low, and bent down on the floor and began pouring half a glass. Their faces barely showed as the light from the fire flickered on their faces.

"All in all, I have to admit. We had a good time that night."  
"You had fun taking care of a drunk guy at a wedding?"  
"You were morally sane for majority of the reception. The service you wouldn't shut up however."  
"How is an atheist supposed to shut up, when he's being held against his own will in a CHURCH."  
"You aren't an atheist. Deep down you believe there's a God."  
"Don't give me that bull."  
"Then why'd you go? You weren't forced against your own will, don't start going melodramatic on me. You wanted to go. You enjoyed yourself. Maybe not the service, which isn't a surprise, because you haven't developed that skill of sitting still for a long period of time."

He silenced himself. Refusing to reply, he finished off the bottle of scotch. He gulped it all down and rose his knee up and rested his arm against it as he swung the bottle around. The thunder and the lightning continued as the rain poured harder and harder against the glass windows.

"You'd figure I'd be drunk by now or at least buzzed but."  
"Your certainly not sober."  
"I don't even think your sober."  
"This is my only glass."  
"Even so. You get drunk a lot faster than I do."  
"I beg to differ. Fourth year at U of M for me, Daniel Delemonte's party. I found you dead on the floor in his bathroom."  
"Okay, second year at U of M for you, Jeff Growth and Heidi Kendall's party okay? I found you in their bedroom closet. With Steve Greene."

Cuddy began to smile. She shut her eyes tight and left her smile on as her mouth opened. House waited for her to reply. He too gave a smirk. This was his kind of entertainment.

"I cannot believe you remember that."  
"It wasn't hard not to. Based on the way your clothes looked, you both were drunk and you crashed before you got to third base."  
"You remember what I was wearing?"  
"Again, it wasn't hard not to. You wore the same style back then. The only difference now is that you wear skirts. You wore blue jeans back then but not faded. You hated faded. But you still wore those low cut tops. Every kind there was."  
"Not every--"  
"New top every week. I swear to God."  
"Hypocrite."  
"Oh, don't start."

Thunder rumbled once more, but it was mild. Cuddy reached her hand up towards the armrest of the couch and grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her like a shawl. House finally rested the empty bottle down on the table.

"That's a lousy blanket. Use this one."

And he tossed a much thicker and longer blanket on her head. It took her a while before she could pull it all off.

"I didn't need a blanket House. I'm not cold. I just like the feeling of it around me."  
"Who said you were cold?"  
"You threw me a thicker and longer blanket."  
"Because the other blanket was lousy. Your faulty assumption was me, reacting to your action."

She embraced the large blanket anyway and laid herself across the couch.

"Realistically, your actually showing me you care but you try to hide that factor, deflect because your insecure and uncomfortable."  
"Realistically, yes, that is true. But you can never really tell when I'm like that. I'm either deflecting or I'm just being a smart ass like that."  
"Most of the time your just deflecting."

He slowly stood up from the floor and grabbed all the empty glasses left on the table.

"Alright, you know where the extra pillows are, blankets, bathroom, if you wanna get cozy you know where my bedroom is.."  
"I'm sleeping here?"  
"I don't believe your driving out there, so I'm going to assume you staying here. I mean, if your up for getting electrocuted, go ahead, have fun, be my guest but, I figured you might as well stay here."  
"Your caring."  
"This time I have nothing to use to deflect. You should take that as a good thing."

And he limped into the kitchen setting the glasses and the empty bottle in the sink and went for his bedroom. Behind him, a content Cuddy was smiling as she cuddled up to the thick blanket.


	2. River Flows in Her

_Six thirty. The stormy night had faded into a brisk morning with the residue of rain all over. Over the pavement, the trees, cars. Everywhere. Although the rain remained, the clouds had scattered away, along with the lightning and thunder. The apartment was still fairly dark. There was only a small lining of light showing from behind all the trees in the distance. The sun was rising, slowly and readily. Today would be a promising day, one we could remember._

Cuddy was still sound asleep on the couch, wrapped snug in the blanket. She gave brief movements, signifying she was still dreaming deep; her eyes were not completely closed, they fluttered for only seconds before shutting themselves tight. Suddenly a vibrating noise sounded from inside the couch. It continued for nearly a minute before Cuddy dug her hand inside the couch, searching to stop the noise. She finally found it and pulled it out, sitting upright on the couch. It was her phone that had received a text message.

_Wake up Wake up._

She checked the bottom for the call back number. It was House. She grinned. Then rested the phone gently on the coffee table and took off the blanket. She stood up and made her way into his bedroom. The door was slightly cracked open, showing a slit piece of the room. She pushed it open and found he wasn't in his bed. She curiously looked around the entire apartment: from the bedroom, to his bathroom, everywhere. When she made her way back into the living room, a key slid into the door. First the bottom lock; it locked in and twisted, but before it could reach the second lock, she had went to the door to open the top lock.

"Good, you're awake."

He was carrying a plastic bag and a paper bag as he walked in the apartment, setting his keys on the side table.

"Odd choice of waking me up."  
"Yeah, coffee?"  
"Might as well."

He took out two cups of coffee from the paper bag before crushing it to form a ball, and tossing it towards a trash can by the piano. He unfortunately missed and it landed on the ivory keys.

"Nice."  
"Yeah."  
"What's in the bag?"  
"Quick grocery and some pads, or napkins, or whatever you women call them."  
"How did you--?"  
"You stayed overnight, go figure, you'd need one today."

He snatched the pack of pads out of the bag and handed them to her. She had a slightly shocked face with a smile included. He sighed.

"That is one thing I am definitely not doing again. You know how many heads I turned when I walked up to the register?"  
They both laughed.  
"Thanks."

He began to walk into the kitchen to put away all his groceries as she laughed at his odd and thoughtful gesture. After she did so, she shifted her eyes to where the brown paper ball had fallen. But she didn't walk over just to pick it up. She was more fascinated with the small piano that stood in her presence. She sat down on the bench and slowly dragged her hand across both the ivory and ebony keys. When she lifted her fingers, dust residue had stuck to her. This was a surprise to her. Right then House had walked back out of the kitchen and saw her drawn the the piano. He walked over and leaned against a side as he watched her interest.

"You ever played?"  
"When was the last time you did?"  
"Haven't in a while."  
"Why?"  
"Busy with some things."  
"What could you possibly occupy yourself with on your own spare time, besides sitting your ass on that couch, popping pills and playing this piano."  
"Things."  
"Like what."  
"Why is it relevant?"  
"Why isn't it irrelevant?"  
"Same thing."  
"I know."  
"I take it that this was a euphemism just to ask me to play?"  
"Yes."  
"Finally."

He rolled his eyes and slowly limped over to the bench. He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Cuddy began to slide off the bench, but he stopped her.

"Stay."

He stood behind her and reached out his arms on both sides of her. One arm on one side and the other on the other side. She attempted to reposition herself for his benefit, but he gave her a relatively stern look. Then he laid his hands on the keys ever so gently and began to play. The notes filled the air as he pressed every key, all harmonizing together to fill the apartment with song. After a good amount of notes and chords, he began to hum the tune, as if he'd known it forever.

"Mmm...hm...hmm..mm, mm, mm..."  
"Yiruma?"  
"River flows in you.."

He continued to play the ballad so gracefully, nearly more so than Yiruma could. It sounded almost like an angel was playing heaven's song on the piano. She turned and raised her head to face him. His face was inches away as he focused on catching all the notes. Every now and again, he strived to reach over his foot to the pedals to sustain the sound. It only brought his face closer, and the music to echo louder.

"You sound like you've perfected it."  
"Easiest to learn by ear."  
"How so?"  
"This method, allows you to give it more, meaning when you play.."

She watched his face as it tensed and release, with every note he played. His eyes shut every now and again as his hands continued to dance along the keys. For some reason, she couldn't turn away from him. When he was doing something so passionately like this, so committed, determined, it showed a great side of him that she wouldn't normally see.

"Brilliant man with a brilliant talent.."  
"A natural gift. Like you."  
"This isn't a gift. This is just hard work, passion and strife compacted together in one mans hands. "  
"Blythe told me that she had put you on lessons and you were a natural."  
"No. My gift is the gift of observation, this is just something I earned. Understand, I enjoyed it, it was my passion that I thrived on through my youth, however, it wasn't easy getting to where I stand now."

It was amazing how he could juggle a conversation, while playing a beautiful ballad, so gracefully, and so flawlessly. It took her a while to respond for she was grinning so much at his feel towards the music. She wasn't even staring at his hands anymore, for you could see it all on his face, on his sustaining expression.

"I can imagine."

His touch was getting softer. Softer and slower. His hands moved steadily along the keys now. He was beginning the ritardando ending portion of the piece. He kept his eyes closed for the remainder of the song. Now, the sun was high over the trees, and shining through the windows onto their faces and the keys. But this didn't stop him. He hummed the last few notes as his fingers glided over them and they remained for several seconds before he lifted them up.

"Work?"  
"You never--"  
"I meant you."  
"Oh. Probably. After, I go change."  
"Can I come?"  
"Sorry, I'm off the clock."  
"Rain check on that then."  
"I'm free next week."  
"Good."

They both got up from the piano and he walked her to the door. He began to escort her out. He held tight to the doorknob as she slipped on her shoes and jacket.

"Thanks for the stay. This was--fun."  
"Relatively."

They both paused. She smiled slightly and he tilted his head to her left, gazing at her.

"What are you thinking?"  
"Whether or not I'm going to work."  
"Seriously."  
"I am by the way. Only because, I have a feeling you might want to finish this a little later."

And he leaned in and lingered a kiss on her lips. His lips pressed against hers for only a moment then he looked at her then opened the door, allowing her to finally leave.

"You're caring again."  
"Only a little bit."  
"Ah, you're deflecting too."  
"Am not."

She walked out slightly entertained by his gesture as the song began to play again in her mind. The door closed slightly as she continued walking down the hall with the notes echoing in her mind.


	3. His Process

"Wilson!"

House had barged into Wilson's office and found him sprawled out across his couch. Mouth wide open, and arms stretched about. He switched the lights on and Wilson flinched, and began to sit upright. He rubbed his face and stared blankly at him.

"What?"  
"Didn't get enough sleep I see."  
"Yeah, you?"  
"Slept like a baby."  
"How, the thunder was terrible last night."  
"I had my ways."  
Wilson looked at him curiously.  
"Which would be?"  
"How long you been asleep?"

He had looked away from him, trying hard to avoid the subject. Which brought Wilson to a greater suspicion.

"A while." Wilson spoke slowly.  
"Surprised Cuddy hasn't gotten on your back. You hear her come in here earlier?"  
"No, she's been busy, in and out of her office. She can't seem to keep herself stationary, oddly enough."  
"Interesting."

Wilson got up from the couch and walked over to House. They both stood in the doorway as Wilson tried to convince him to give an explanation.

"Did something happen with you guys last night?"  
"No."  
"Seriously."  
"SERIOUSLY."  
"You guys didn't...."  
"I'd be singing."  
"Well. It's hard to recognize things with you sometimes."

Suddenly, Cuddy walked by Wilson's office and handed House a file. She looked at him for a brief moment before explaining the mans' symptoms.

"Thirty, male, car accident, laceration on the arm and leg, sudden fever 104.7 and rising."  
"Grazie. Surprised I came?"  
"No. You aren't the type to...leave around, unfinished---business."  
"Right."

Wilson looked back and forth at them, trying to figure out something. His face was very confused, feeling so out of the loop.

"Okay well."

She started walking away and began to hum the ballad House had been playing earlier this morning. As she did so, for a brief moment, she turned around and looked at them before making her way back to the clinic.

"Oh yeah, something definitely didn't happen between you two," Wilson uttered with sarcasm.

House grinned and limped away back to his own office as Wilson stood confused and curious of what had just taken place.

:::

"What was that?"

Wilson had barged into Cuddy's office about five minutes after she had left him and House. She was startled at his presence and offended by his accusation.

"What was what?"  
"Your conversation with him. That was probably the strangest conversation you guys have had with each other. And when I mean strange I mean normal, because normal is strange for you two, if that made sense."  
"Our conversation was about a patient."  
"Your conversation was a euphemism for what happened last night."  
"Nothing happened last night."  
"I beg to differ."  
"You wanna bet?"  
"Just tell me what's going on."  
"I stayed over, okay?"

She went back to her work, as if she said nothing, but Wilson stood in disbelief, with his eyes wide and jaw slightly hanging. She refused to look back up as he asked her several more questions.

"You stayed over as in "stayed" over or as in "slept" over? Why did you? Where did you sleep?"  
"I--slept on his couch."  
"Oh good, I was terrified for what that question would lead to. Why did you sleep there?"  
"I had originally come to ask when he would be coming back to work. When the storm hit, we decided I should stay."  
"But something happened?"  
"Nothing happened."  
"It's apparently good for you. You were the one singing."  
"He just--kissed me."  
"And?"  
"He kissed me."

Wilson scoffed. This was nothing new, it's value was meaningless. His face was slightly let down and disappointed.

"God. Call me when something actually happens between you two."

She finally looked up and saw that Wilson was slowly walking out of her office. Her face was slightly shocked.

"Its kind of a good thing when an narcissistic pain in the ass confesses-or shows emotion in an action."  
"That wasn't something deep. That wasn't like some miracle."  
"It wouldn't be if he hadn't played it all out by himself."  
"He kissed _you_?"  
"And I didn't lead him in on it."

He stopped at the door for a moment before walking out, finally ending the conversation.

---

_Hours later..._

5:00 p.m.

House was dead asleep on his chair. His feet were overlapping and propped up on his desk with his cane laying across his lap. His moth was half open as air escaped out, along with the echoing snores. He remained like this for several minutes before Cuddy had walked in to find him. When she walked in, she moved slow over to his desk, making sure not to wake him. When she walked over to his desk, she kept her face locked on his. When he was asleep, he looked at peace, and so innocent. At least, more so than he does when he's awake. She bent down, making sure to keep a steady balance as she leveled herself with him. She moved her hands gently and closed his mouth, then she pressed his nostrils together, keeping air from entering his body. After at least a minute, he jolted upward from his seat, dropping his legs to the floor along with his cane. He gasped once for air before turning to see the culprit.

"Shoulda known."  
"Ha."

He laid back in his chair to level his head with her as they continued talking.

"What do you want?"  
"I want my clinic hours done."  
"I just got back."  
"Which is why, I want my clinic hours done."  
"Ugh. You killjoy."  
"There's no joy to kill."  
"Shut up. There's my rest that you killed."  
"You gonna kiss me or not?"

His face tensed. His heart raced a little, as he stared her down.

"You figure, you come in, tease me about work, then ask for a romantic gesture."  
"No?"  
"You know that isn't my process."  
"Fine."

She smiled, stood up and began to walk out.

"By the way, you're ass looks like it's shrunken a bit. Still looks pretty firm though."

She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned around. Mouth dropped and glaring eyes, she stood motionless. Then he got up from his desk and limped over to her. So close that his head was practically arching over.

"This is my process."  
"Granted."

He tossed his cane on his recliner and then leaned in. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up off the ground. Her head was slanted high above him as they walked towards the wall. It helped him support her better than by one leg alone. Every now and again they released for brief breathes of air, which were accompanied with smiles from both sides. Suddenly, the doors opened. Wilson walked in. He managed to catch the show before him, but he ignored it. He smiled at first, but then walked in normally, and went for House's desk. He raided the drawers for something, money what it appeared to be and left, eyes averted, after saying,

"Have fun, be safe."

And he left the two as the sun shone through the windows on their faces, making the room glow in vast streaks before descending behind the towering trees of Princeton.


	4. Interruptions

8:00 p.m.

"Come on, I gotta get home to Rachel."

Cuddy walked barefoot over to House who was focused on the computer. He was skimming through his email as she came up behind him, and rested her hands on his shoulders as they read through his mail. She shifted them to drop by his chest, keeping her arms around his neck.

"When was the last time you checked your mail?"  
"Three months ago."  
"Clearly."  
"Well, it's not like majority of it's important. Or even relatively important."  
"Well you got a few in there. One from Mayo Clinic. One from Yvenstier..? In, New York."  
"What does he want with me?"  
"What does a neurologist want with you?"  
"What's his sub-specialty?"  
"Sleep disorders."  
"Drug trials?"  
"Looks like it."

They both curiously read the email. Their eyes shifted from side to side.

"You think I have to go?"  
"Did it say? Read it aloud."  
"_'Dr. Gregory House, we are pleased to inform you about our upcoming drug trials on the eighteenth of June here in Manhattan Teaching Hospital(MTH). These drug trials are for the treatments of epilepsy, neurodegenerative disorders, including Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, Huntington's Chorea, and Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis and sleeping disorders. We are inviting you to help participate in these drug trials for the benefit of any future patients that may be carrying any of these diseases or disorders. We would especially like you to come and help supervise and hopefully participate in these drug trials here in Manhattan. We would be honored if you could attend these trials, starting on the eighteenth of June, ending on the sixth of August.  
Yours truly, Dr. Jakob Yvenstier.'_"  
"So it's up to you if you want to go?"  
"I'm not going."  
"I'm not surprised. Not even for a few days?"  
"No. I'll probably send Foreman in my place."

He shut down his computer and spun in his chair to face her. He stood up and grabbed his cane as he walked her back over to the recliner to put on her shoes, blazer and jacket. Then they shut off the lights and grabbed their belongings and left the room at peace, going for their journey home.

* * *

  
"I don't remember her being this quiet."

They were both standing in the archway of her kitchen as they drank their scotch on the rocks.

"She doesn't know you're here."  
"Nice."

House set his glass down on the side table nearest to him and walked toward Cuddy. They both stood up against the arch, just leaning.

"I wouldn't expect you out of all people to be drinking so much now. You do have moral responsibilities to take care of. You got a kid, you got a hospital, you got me. Worst of all your problems."  
"You may be the worst, but you're certainly not the hardest."  
"Aw. No fair."

They stood motionless for several minutes. He latched his eyes on her as she swayed her head against the wall from left to right. Then, out of nowhere, he finally removes his jacket and throws it at the couch, then rolls up his sleeves, showing his bare arms and his watch. He turned back to her and stretched out his arms, keeping his hands flat on the wall, as his arms extended, with Cuddy in between. She gave a faint smile and rested her forehead on his own, before reaching for his lips. Suddenly, his phone began to ring, and he heaved an irritated sigh before lifting his hand off the wall to grab the phone in his pocket. It was the team.

_"He's definitely got an infection."_  
"Good. Go broad spectrum antibiotics. Find something, call me. Like, later. Goodbye."

He slapped the phone shut and tossed it onto her floor rug in the living room. She gave him a concerned look as he limped back over.

"Team needs you."  
"Not right now they don't."  
"Call them back."  
"We should have an answer within a half hour."  
"Do not depend on broad spectrum antibiotics, to diagnose your patient. Do that, when I'm not around to see."

He just stared at her for several seconds, before turning around to grab his phone from the rug and dialing back Foreman.

"I knew this relationship would come back and bite me in the ass somehow."

She just laughed and walked into the kitchen to wash her glass. He smiled and watched as the phone continued to ring. Foreman finally picked up.

"Don't go broad spectrum. Round up the usual suspects with them, give the meds and when you get something find me. I don't care what it is, a reaction, or a cure. Just call me."  
_"Where are you?"_  
"At home. Attempting to sleep. Goodnight."  
_"I thought you wanted me to call you--"_  
"Shut up."

And he hung up the phone and stowed it back into his pocket. He walked into the kitchen towards her and leaned against the counter as she rinsed out her cup. As soon as she finished, a faint cry sounded from the nursery.

"I'll be back."

She tried her hands on the hand towel, and scurried a little into the nursery as Rachel's cries grew. House walked over to her dining table and took a seat. _He dug into his pocket and went for his vicodin; the first today._ Suddenly, his phone began to ring. When he flipped it open, the ID read as "Unknown Number", which caused him to ignore the call. However, these calls did not stop for the remainder of the time Cuddy spent calming down Rachel. Tired of having to end these calls, he finally answered, unsure of who it would be.

"Yeah?"  
_"Gregory House?"_  
"Speaking."  
_"Hello Dr. House, I'm calling from Princeton General."_

Cuddy came out slowly, shutting the door to the nursery. She saw him on the phone, sitting in her chair turned away, talking in a hushed tone. So she walked toward him and put her hand on his back as he continued to talk on the phone. After a minute, he finally hung up. His head dropped to the floor.

"Who was it?"  
"That was, Princeton General."  
"What do they want?"

He looked up at her. His face, slightly angry and sad.

"My mom, had a heart attack."


	5. Bonding

"You're staying here."

House was slipping on his jacket and shoes as Cuddy begged to come along with him. She knew his mother Blythe well, so she wanted to be a comfort; to both of them.

"I can bring Rachel with us. She's fast asleep--"  
"Yes, she is. And she doesn't need that sleep interrupted. It'll, take you forever just to, get her to sleep again."  
"I want to come."  
"I've wasted too much time arguing about this."

He grabbed his cane and opened the door, but she slammed it shut and kept her hand tight on the door.

"And you're going to waste more time."

Her face was sincere and innocent. He licked his lips and turned his head saying,

"I'll be in the car."

She released the door, and he opened it again to walk out to his car. Inside, Cuddy had put Rachel in her car seat and put on their shoes and their jackets. It was slightly chilly out tonight. Soon enough, they joined him in the car and they drove off to Princeton General.

"You are really milking this relationship thing aren't you?"

House was completely focused on the road; one hand on the twelve o'clock position as the other rested on the door. But he could still juggle a conversation with Cuddy.

"I'm taking everything out of it I can."  
"I'm not entirely sure if I should take that as a good thing."  
"Me either."

Out of all the sudden, he felt a rush of adrenaline. It made him feel angry, but he could not outburst now. Especially at Cuddy, and with the little one around. So he tightened his grip on the wheel, discreetly. But she knew.

* * *

  
_At the hospital: 10:00 p.m._

House and Cuddy slowly walked into Blythe's room. She was carrying Rachel in her car seat as they made their way into the room. She was now in a stable condition, but she was resting. They both walked to her side as they watched her peacefully sleep. House pulled up a chair and sat close to his mom. Cuddy just stood along his side, bringing him comfort.

"This is what happens when no one's looking after her."  
"Don't start blaming yourself for this."

He reached for his mothers hand. Something he hadn't done in years. At his touch, she gave a slight twitch. Neither of them noticed, but she cracked open her eyes to see who was before her. She wanted to smile, but she couldn't, for now. So she just listened to them talk to each other.

"You uh--you need to go home."  
"We've only been here for less than five minutes."  
"That one, needs proper sleep. When I mean proper, I mean in a crib, with a blanket, and with silence."  
"Since when are you concerned about her?"  
"Because I--"

He stopped himself. He inhaled and turned his head toward her.

"I don't need her waking up the whole damn hospital if she doesn't get her own rest."  
"How will you get home if I take the car."  
"I'll find other means of transportation."  
"Stop pretending like you're okay. For once, let someone stay by your side to help you."  
"It's not your job to attend to her."  
"But it is my job to attend to you."

Suddenly, Rachel began to cry from her car seat. Not a loud cry, but a soft and faint cry. So she put the car seat down and picked her up, trying to calm her down.

"Shush. Shush, shush."  
"Mommy's here. Even though she shouldn't be."

Cuddy threw a stern look at him. He just stared at her and realized the fight had ended. And she had won. So to compensate, he asked for Rachel.

"Give her."  
"It's fine House."  
"You've been trying to put her to bed all night."  
"That's what I'm here for."  
"Just give me the damn kid."

She gave him another stern look and handed Rachel over. He limped around the room calming her down. Cuddy had remained standing, which annoyed him.

"Sit," he said sternly.  
"I'm fine standing. You are the one who really should be sitting."  
"Sit."  
"I'm fine."  
"Do you really want to start another argument?"

She sighed and sat down in the chair he had resided in before. Then he turned and limped back and forth, pacing around the room, attempting to put the child to sleep. He did this for several minutes before she finally knocked out. Then suddenly, Blythe began to wake up, or pretended like she was just waking up. She opened her eyes and smiled at the sight before her. She turned to smile at House, and then Cuddy.

"When did you guys get here?"  
"About fifteen minutes ago," he called from the corner.  
"How are you Blythe? What happened?"  
"Ah, Lisa. Always a delight to see you."  
"Likewise."  
"How've you been?"  
"I've been well. Here and there, jumping from thing to thing. Most of my focus has been on work, and the little one over there."

She turned and saw him holding Rachel. She smiled and kept herself in this gaze, as she watched her son attending to this little child. Like a father.

"This one isn't mine by the way, not to be a killjoy," he uttered with annoyance.  
"I adopted her several months ago."  
"She's beautiful."  
"Thank you."  
"What's her name?"  
"Rachel."

Their heads turned towards House. He had beaten Cuddy to it. Blythe smiled again at the sight of her son and Cuddy, had a curious, and very slightly shocked face. She tried to drop it by talking to Blythe again.

"So what happened?"  
"Ugh, heart attacks are not something you ever want to encounter. I was just in town, going to visit Greg over there. I had stopped by at a gas station to fill my tank up. After I had everything taken care of, I was going for my car. When I opened the door, I had tremendous amount of pressure in my chest. Shooting pains up and down my left arm. I knew I was having a heart attack. So I dug into my pocket and grabbed my phone, calling 9-1-1. Within minutes, they were there. Then they rushed me over here, stabilized me just in time."  
"Wow."  
"Why didn't you call?"  
"I wanted to make a surprise visit to my son, is that so wrong?"  
"Yes."

Blythe rolled her eyes at her son and brought her attention back to Cuddy.

"I don't see how you can stand to be around him majority of the day for seven days a week."  
"It's cause she really really loves me mommy."  
"I don't get how you did it either Blythe. Nearly over twenty years knowing this guy, and he's been the same ass every time."  
"Tell me about it."  
"Okay, I am going to leave you two girlies' to talk about me while I go talk to the nice doctor who admitted you.  
"Leave her--"  
"Shush, you'll wake the baby."

Cuddy threw him a glare as he walked out of the room. He shut it slowly and left the two to converse with each other.

"He really likes you doesn't he?"  
"How did--?"  
"Oh, I didn't know you two were dating. I just, figured he liked you. I've spent majority of my life with Greg, I know when he takes a liking towards a woman."  
"I've spent half my life with him, and I still don't understand everything that goes on in his mind."  
"Mm. That's my Greg for you. It's a shame you two hadn't gotten together sooner. John, Greg's father, he would've liked you."

Cuddy bowed her head and smiled.

"Thank you."  
"No need. You deserve this kind of praise. I can tell what you've made of Greg. How you talk to him, how he looks at you. How he so desperately needs to fill your needs. When you fight, its almost--I don't know. When you two came into my room, I could hear you two. How you bicker at each other. The way how one of you always has to dominate the situation. It's genuinely sweet. He has this sense of unrelenting care towards you. Something I haven't seen from him in a while."

Cuddy had this sincere face. A smile, but it also seemed like she was thinking. Her head was still bowed as she sat in the chair next to Blythe.

"We should talk more. I've forgotten how much I liked you."  
"Hah. Same."  
"Frankly, I like you better than that Stacy of his he had a few years ago."  
"Oh, really?"  
"Oh yes. Honestly? That relationship was--what really brought Greg to his misery. After everything that had happened, he changed. But you, you've brought back the life in him. You've given him--purpose. And I offer you my greatest gratitude for that."  
"Well I--Huh. You're welcome, Blythe."

The door had opened. They both turned their heads and saw House slowly walking in with Rachel.

"I don't care I'm taking you two home now."

He went in carefully to go put her in her car seat. After, he put a blanket over her.

"I'll be back to pick you up around one tomorrow. Doc said you're going to be fine, keeping you for observation, you know the deal. It's getting late though so I should be taking these two home."

Blythe nodded, and he came over to give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. Cuddy smiled as she picked up the car seat and waited for him by the door.

"One o'clock."  
"See you then."

He limped to the door and took the seat from Cuddy. Gently enough, so that he wouldn't wake the sleeping child. Blythe threw a smile and a nod at Cuddy.

"Bye, Blythe."  
"Bye, Lisa."

She shut the door, and they began to make their way through the hospital corridors and down the elevator, and through the lobby, exiting to the parking lot.

"I forgot how much my mom likes you."  
"I forgot how much I like her."

They finally reached the car. House had placed Rachel in the back and they had both gotten in the front. House started the car and revved up the engine.

"She's, something alright. She was the woman of my life."  
"_Was_?"  
"Evidently, now I have three."

Cuddy turned her head. He grabbed her hand as they pulled out of the parking lot, making their way back home.


	6. Relations

_Later that night: 1:00 a.m._

House and Cuddy were laying together on the couch, watching another one of House's soaps. He was sitting with his legs spread out across the couch, as Cuddy lied across his chest, with her legs with his, and her head beneath his chin. Both were in their sweats, resting. Both were barely awake.

"Wait so. Diana, slept with Landon. Who is engaged to his best friends sister Heidi, who is actually having an affair with Jeff?" She asked him sleepily.  
"Yeah. And Diana, gets knocked up with Landon's baby. His best friend Marcus was supposed to be the best man to his and Heidi's wedding, but the wedding gets canceled when Heidi confesses her affair with Jeff, and admits she's pregnant with his baby. But she doesn't find out about Landon's affair with Diana who is actually best friends with Heidi, until the season finale."  
"I don't get how you can watch this stuff. Let alone keep up with it."  
"Are you kidding? I love this stuff."  
"Mm."

Her eyes were slowly closing. Then she brought her hand to cover her mouth, for she began to cough. After several coughs, she rose from him and got off the couch and started for the bathroom.

"You okay?"  
"Yeah, yeah I think I'm just getting a bad cold."

She walked into the bathroom and flipped on the switch. As she covered her mouth, she held on to her stomach as the coughs intensified. She hovered over the sink and began to cough down the drain. She felt the need to spit, and she did, and what appeared, scared her, terribly. Droplets of blood stained her white sink. After another few coughs, she had settled down. She kept a tight grip on the sides of the sink as she continued spitting out the blood.

"Shit. Shit."

Before she walked back out, she washed her mouth, clearing it of all blood residue. She wiped her mouth with the towel, before shutting off the light and walking back into the living room.

"What was that about?"  
"Like I said, I'm just getting a bad cold."  
"You take medicine?"  
"It'll go away."

She lied back down with him on the couch and fell asleep fairly fast. Around two, he turned off the tv and slipped slowly off the couch to let her lay down properly. As he did, he managed to catch droplets of blood residue on her tank top. He became very suspicious, but left that for a better time. So he grabbed the fleece throw blanket, hanging over the armrest and covered her from head to toe. After, he limped in the kitchen for a glass of gin. He leaned against the counter in the dark, as the moon took its place in the sky. It watched over him, and lighted the darkness. After his third glass, he made his way back into the living room and sat on the floor. He rested his leg down on the carpet and kept his head angled against the cushions of the couch. His head was so close to hers, he heard her muffled breathing.

* * *

  
_Morning: 8:30 a.m._

A cry sounded from the nursery. It was loud, but brief. House, who had fallen completely on the floor as he slept, had carefully risen his torso off the floor and sat upright. He shut his eyes tight, and rubbed his head and face. He had a migraine. Then again, a second cry sounded from the nursery. Before she could again, he had gotten up to calm the child. He limped into the nursery and picked her up from her crib and hushed her. She smiled at him, and began to grab at his face. As he pulled away in a slight annoyance, she started laughing. Her laugh echoed throughout the nursery and came bouncing back to House's ears. It was a sweet sound. A very sweet sound. He shut his eyes for a moment, but then opened them right back up again and he peeked outside the room to see if Cuddy had woken up. Then he stared back at the child.

"Shush. You'll wake mommy."

Not knowing what to do with her, now that she was clearly awake, he carefully walked out into the living room. He crept by Cuddy and then made his way to the front door. He unlocked it, and opened it gently, and sat down on the steps of her porch outside. He left it cracked open, to be sure he wouldn't lock himself out. As he sat down on the cold concrete, he stretched out his leg, and kept his other on the step, sitting the child on his lap as they watched the sunrise.

"You're strange, kid. But, for mommy's sake, I'm going to try and bond with you more. The only times I've spent with you is, putting you asleep and, well you throwing up on me."

She looked up at him. All she did was bat her eyes and pulled at his face.

"I uh. I'm not that good at this. As you can see. You kind of remind me of my cousin. She's older now, but when we were kids, I used to take care of her. I was nine at the time and she was only one. She was like my little sister. That was years ago though. I haven't really taken care of a baby like this since."

She cooed, almost as if replying to him. The sun was fairly high, and shining bright. It's streaks of light spread out through the house, and managed to reach Cuddy. As it touched her face, she made a few twitches here and there, before finally waking up. She sat curiously upright on the couch and looked around: nursery door open, no House in sight, and front door open. She took a hair tie from her table and put her hair up, as she began to walk towards the door. As she got closer, she recognized the voice. She began to walk slower.

"..and with everything I've been through, our lives don't even compare. But they are kind of similar. We both have a mom we care about, we really didn't have a father growing up...For you, that still remains to be seen."

Cuddy stood in the crack of the door as she listened in on their 'conversation.'

"You may not have a dad yet, and I honestly don't know if you ever will. But, you have a mommy. You have one heck of a mommy. And she loves you, more than you will, or more than you could ever know."

She listened intently as he continued giving her baby daughter this lecture.

"So, when you're older, I don't wanna hear about you smoking or getting pregnant or even doing drugs. Don't end up like me. Don't take that route. Maybe, if you had a dad, I would encourage it more but. Your mom's alone. If you ever did any of that to her, not only would it hurt her, but the load bears on her a lot. If you had a dad, you could give him the heart attack."

Cuddy gave a smirk.

"Even though you may not have a dad, you do have a crazy aunt, named Aunt Heather, and you have a strange Uncle, named Uncle Gary, and you have a bitchin' Grandma, named well Grandma, to you at least. Knowing her, she might even want you to call her Aunt Nora."

Cuddy couldn't help but laugh. She shook her head and just smiled.

"We should have these talks more often."

Rachel just cooed and pulled at his face again. Cuddy broke a laugh. House turned around and saw her standing in the arch of the door. She folded her arms and finally spoke.

"You're not influencing my daughter to be rebellious and a juvenile delinquent are you?"  
"Yes. I am. I have to pass the legend on don't I? Now like I said, weed at thirteen, vicodin at fifteen, triplets at eighteen, and mommy should be dead in no time."

Cuddy rolled her eyes as he got up off the steps, and began to walk back into the house, with Rachel in his arm.

"I'm calling in sick."  
"No you're not," Cuddy retorted as she walked into the kitchen.

"Let me rephrase that, I am feeling extremely ill this promising morning, therefore I will call in to my work and inform them of my ill being."  
"You are not sick."  
"My head is killing me though. Along with my leg."  
"You're leg's hurting?"  
"Here we go."

They were all in the kitchen now. House had put Rachel in her high chair and he had sat down on one of the chairs. Cuddy was preparing some coffee and a bottle for Rachel.

"How bad?"  
"It's just hurting. It's well enough for me to walk short distances, but it hurts enough for me to collapse while attending to a patient in the clinic, and back to my office."  
"Did you take your vicodin?"  
"Oh God woman. I say leg pain you think, oh my god he's dying."  
"Well excuse me for being concerned."

She sat down next to him after giving Rachel her bottle. She propped her head on her hand with her elbow on the table, and she closed her eyes.

"Tired much?"  
"Physically. I slept too well last night to be sleepy."  
"Your couch is actually comfortable. Even your floor, exceptionally comfortable."  
"You should've slept with me on the couch."  
"You'd be even more tired if i hadn't got off. Proper sleep equals good sleep."  
"And does that only apply to everyone else but you?"  
"I did have proper sleep."  
"Yeah, right."

She opened back her eyes and just laid her head flat on the table. He ran his hand over her hair and then held her hand.

"I actually think I'm gonna stay home too. My chest is killing me."  
"Could be from the quick takeout we got before coming home last night."  
"I barely ate any."  
"Well, get a check when we get back tomorrow."

His voice sounded very concerned. Just the tone itself was worrying.

"I'm going back to bed, I feel way too tired."  
"I'll join you in a few minutes. Let me just call your babysitter to come pick the little one up."  
"Okay."

She lifted herself lazily off the kitchen chair and began to make her way into the bedroom. House then went and turned off the coffee maker. After doing so, he went to go pick up the smiling Rachel from her highchair.

"I'll see you later kiddo," he kissed her on the forehead and grabbed the phone with his opened hand and dialed for the babysitter, as Cuddy attempting to put herself at ease.


	7. Secrets, Lies, and a Truth

_Later that day 3:45_

Cuddy walked out of her bathroom dressed in the normal clothes she'd wear to work. She was walking all over her house, apparently getting ready to leave. In the living room, she began to write a note on a scrap piece of paper she found, and continued scribbling down. After doing so, she folded it in half and put on the front, "House". She picked it up, and walked into her bedroom where he was still fast asleep. She rested it on her pillow, in perfect sight of House. Then she walked out, put on her shoes and left, without hesitation.

* * *

  
_Minutes later 4:00_

"You've been what?"

Cuddy had entered Wilson's office who was concentrated on his work, but now had all attention towards Cuddy as she began to call off all her symptoms.

"I coughed up blood early this morning. And lately, I've been extremely tired, physically. And now, chest pain."  
"You--you know the diagnosis for that."  
"I know."  
"You want me to do a scan?"  
"Please."  
"Okay, I have time right now but we won't--"  
"Just don't tell House."  
"Cuddy, if this is--he needs to know. Out of all people, _he_, needs to know."  
"Just, not now."

Wilson got up from his desk, walked over and pulled Cuddy into an embrace. He put his arm over her as they walked out of his office, fairly quickly, so that no one would see.

* * *

  
_House,  
out for lunch with Wilson and then my clinic checkup. Didn't want to wake you. Pick up Rachel for me, I might be back a little late.  
-Cuddy_

House closed up the note and held it tightly in his hand. He got out of bed and checked his watch.

"_4:30._"  


* * *

"Why didn't you approach me about this earlier?"

Cuddy and Wilson had returned to his office. They were both sitting on the couch, waiting for the results of her biopsy and the MRI scan.

"I--wasn't sure then. I am now."  
"Then why are we doing this?"  
"I don't want to misdiagnose myself."  
"How could you, the facts are clear."  
"I need to know if we can fix this."  
"Chances are we can. Some treatment and you should be fine."

She sighed.

"You do know, the hardest thing you'll have to do is tell House right?"  
"If it's not terminal, we don't have to tell him anything."  
"And if it is terminal? Not that it is, or that it would be but. Seriously."  
"I just. I'd ease him in."

Suddenly a nurse had come in with a few papers and an MRI.

"Dr. Wilson?"

He looked at Cuddy, and then stood up to grab the results. He first examined the papers and then the actual MRI.

* * *

  
"Hi, can I help you?"  
"I'm here to pick up Rachel, for Dr. Lisa Cuddy."

House was waiting at the door for the babysitter to get Rachel. Soon enough, she came along back with her asleep in her car seat.

"She fell asleep about an hour ago."  
"Here," he dug into his pocket, and grabbed any money he could get. He managed to pull out a twenty and a five.  
"Thanks."  
"Any time."

She closed the door and they walked off to the car. He locked her seat to the chair in the back and buckled her seat belt before limping back to the front to drive them back. Within minutes they were home. He carefully took her out of the car, making sure she was still asleep as they walked into the house. When they got in, he walked straight for the nursery and set her down in the crib. He tucked her in and closed the door slightly, leaving a crack in the door. He walked out towards the kitchen, preparing himself maybe a glass of gin or some scotch, but right before he could, Rachel began to cry from inside the nursery. He dropped his head and turned to go attend to the crying child.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's the fuss about kid? What's, what's going on here?"

He went closer to the crib. As soon as his face appeared before the child, she broke a smile.

"Am I some kind of, entertainment for you?"

She outstretched her arms and waved them around, almost asking him to pick her up.

"Ah. How bout if I just, pull up a chair and sit close?"

She dropped her arms and smiled, like she understood. He pulled up a stool astray in the corner of the room and sat close. He folded his arms and rested his chin on his forearm as he stared down at the child.

* * *

  
"I'm sorry."

Her head was bowed. She kept her hands over her face, preventing her tears to fall.

"It's metastasized almost over both your lungs and now its going towards all your other organs."  
"I know. I saw."  
"We could've stopped it. But."  
"I know."

Her voice was muffled beneath her hands. So she finally released and raised her head. Puffy red eyes and a wet face.

"You will not tell him."  
"You're not going to tell him?"  
"Not yet, at least."  
"Cuddy, you only have a few months. You can't keep him obscured from this."  
"I've finally weaned him off the vicodin. If I tell him now, all that will go down the drain. This is another excuse for him to get addicted again."  
"You don't know that."  
"Yes I do. Don't be naive Wilson."  
"There are plenty of other things he could turn to, with the exception of vicodin. He clearly wanted to detox off it, why would he allow himself back?"  
"Because he's House, and because he has no self control, but he does have me. But what happens when I'm gone? Then what?"

He silenced himself for a moment. She sat back on the couch and rested her elbow on the armrest and let the rest of her forearm hang.

"Do you really want to leave without him saying goodbye? Do you want him to just wake up one day and find out you're dead, and you didn't tell him anything? Do you really want die without letting him know you love him?"

She inhaled a deep breath. And looked at him, sincerely and right in his eyes.

"No. But I don't want him waking up every day, _blaming_ himself that he didn't see this coming. Blaming himself, for not seeing the signs. When I'm gone, I don't want to see him suffer, because I was one of the very few lives, he was unable to save."


	8. First Stage: Denial

_Later that day: Night 8:00 p.m._

Cuddy walked carefully into her house and quietly shut her door behind her. She examined the entire house and listened, for any sign of movement or for just, anyone. She slipped off her shoes and laid her bag on the side table. As she walked through, she could hear distant cooing coming from the nursery: they were home. She walked into the bedroom to find House already half asleep. She slipped out of her clothes, and put on her sweats that had been laid out by his duffel bag, on her chair. As soon as she slipped into bed behind him, and held him in an embrace tears slightly filled her eyes. For she knew that the amount of opportunities she could do this, were shortened, shortened, by so much. House had felt the tears against the back of his shirt, but he made no mention. But he did begin to talk to her, without turning around.

"How was lunch with Wilson?"  
"Oh. I didn't know you were awake."  
"It's hard to sleep with an empty space behind me."  
"Mm. We had a good lunch. He bought. And then I went back to the hospital for my clinic check, they said I was okay, the blood was just a one time thing and the chest pain was heartburn."  
"Chronic fatigue?"  
"I've got a baby. Less than a year old."  
"Yeah, I'd say that's a good excuse."  
"You pick up your mom?"  
"While you were sleeping earlier, yeah."  
"I didn't hear you leave."  
"Go to sleep."  
"I had plenty of sleep today--"  
"No, you're just annoying me, cause I need some."

She broke a laugh and he turned to her and kissed her on the head, before turning back around with at tense look on his face. His suspicions were becoming deeper, and he needed to find out what was going on.

* * *

  
_Two weeks Later: Monday 10:00 a.m._

"It's gotta be cancer."  
"Or it could be TB?"  
"I call for, amyloidosis."

The team was all revved up in the differential. Ideas shot out from each person, rotating from Foreman, to Thirteen, to Taub. Eventually House sent them off.

"Foreman, get us an MRI check for cancer, Thirteen, get a physical, chest X-ray and run smears and blood cultures, get a biopsy."

All of them fluttered out, and went off to do their tasks. House was still thinking about Cuddy. He sat at the table for minutes before deciding to leave. To entertain himself, he made his way to Wilson's office. He however, stopped abruptly at his door when he saw that hit was cracked open. He was almost afraid to walk in, but he did anyway. No one in sight. So, he decided to play around at his desk. So he limped on over and began raiding the drawers, but some paperwork on the desk had caught his eye.

"_Large mass covering right lung, northern half of left._"

He dropped the papers back onto the desk and limped right out of there, returning to his place in his office.

* * *

  
_Fifteen minutes later  
10:25 a.m._

House was sitting at his desk staring furiously at one single spot in his room. He could not outburst, for he was expecting his team any minute. He couldn't do anything at the moment, for he was confined in his office, along with these mixed emotions. He spun around and looked outside. All he could think about was why she didn't tell him. He had a feeling something was wrong since the moment she started coughing, and he usually is right about his suspicions, and he was right about this. So, knowing what was wrong wasn't the problem, not telling him about it was. Not only was he angry at Cuddy, but he was angry and Wilson for not overpowering her judgment. All of the sudden the team came in.

"It's cancer," Taub declared as they entered the room.  
"Lung cancer. Her father used to smoke plenty around her as a child and well into her teenage years. It's finally taken it's effect. But we caught it in it's late stage. It's already metastasized over the two northern parts of her lungs."

Foreman was waiting for his response. But, he refused to say anything. They already knew the diagnosis, so go figure, there's no point.

"Are you okay?" Thirteen asked awkwardly.  
"I'm fine."  
"So what are we doing?"  
"You guys know what to do. Go tell her."  
"You don't want to do a differential, to prove me wrong?"  
"Nope."  
"Don't you think it's benign?"  
"No."  
"You are sure?"  
"You even said it yourself. Based on her family history and her MRI scan, it makes sense."  
"You never settle for just a--"

He slammed down his cane against the table by the window sill and stood up.

"She's dying! There's no diagnosis for that! You yourself said it's terminal! You've got the facts down! There is _no_ differential for a terminal illness!"

Thirteen and Taub were fairly shocked, possibly even scared. They hadn't seen an outburst from him in a long time. Foreman however, remained calm. He didn't yell back, but he had a concerned look on his face.

"What's going on?"  
"Nothing." He had calmed down. His voice was steady, but slightly shaky.  
"Something's happened. I want to know."  
"No you don't. Don't go self righteous on me and try to figure out why I'm angry."  
"If something's going on with my boss, I'd like to know what's bugging him."  
"Why, because you _care_?"  
"Yeah, maybe."

He gritted his teeth together. Then he began to walk out.

"Do your job, stop trying to attend to me."

And he disappeared out of the office, leaving two out of three clueless, and one out of the three upset.

* * *

  
_Hours later  
3:00 p.m._

House had been avoiding his team, Cuddy and Wilson all day. He spent his time going up and down the stairwells, trying to get this feeling away. He was in complete denial about the whole thing, and he needed to somehow let his anger out, without hurting the people dear to him. As he was doing so, he nearly tripped and fell down two flights of stairs, but he saved himself, just barely. He had been doing this for hours until 3:00, when he finally decided to face Wilson. He walked out onto the third floor and went straight for Wilson's office. He was actually there when he walked in, so to show that something was wrong he threw the door shut as he walked towards his desk.

"Something--wrong?"  
"You tell me."  
"I--wish I could?"

House just stared at Wilson. He released the hurt, the anger, and the pain, within this stare, and soon enough, Wilson's face dropped.

"How did you--?"  
"The idea that the woman I love is dying, can't really be kept from me."


	9. Second Stage: Anger

"Shit." Wilson rubbed his face--stressing his palm on his temple.  
"Out of all people, I would expect you to be the first one to tell me."  
"I couldn't. She--asked me not to. Actually she forced me not to."  
"It's called a backbone Wilson. You should think about getting one."

House paced around the room as they continued to argue about the situation at hand.

"She's dying, and you expect me to break the one thing I promised her?"  
"TWO WEEKS. I've known about her symptoms, I had a feeling where they were going. But the fact that neither of you told me--"  
"She was going to tell you--"  
"When, at the viewing? Or is that still too early?"  
"This all is--it's still hard for even her to process. It's only been two weeks and she's, vulnerable. It's hard for all of us."  
"_Us_? Who else knows?"  
"I meant, us, me and her."

House just looked him straight in the eyes and then Wilson spoke innocently,

"Chase and Cameron."  
"Damn it."

He turned his head one way and then the other and stormed out of his office. Wilson followed shortly after, and raced him down the corridor.

"Where are you going?"  
"I'm talking to Cuddy."  
"No!"

Wilson got in front of House before he could get into the elevator.

"She doesn't want you to know yet! What part of that didn't you understand?"  
"The part where how I'm not involved in this."  
"You think this is about _you_?"  
"No! It's about you having no balls to tell me the damn truth!"

Wilson just looked at him and right when the doors were about to close, Wilson stopped them and gave way for House. He joined him on the way down. Eventually they made their way into Cuddy's office. House stormed in with Wilson following close behind. Cuddy had a curious face.

"What's going on?"

House just tilted his head down, tightened his jaw and gritted his teeth, giving her the same look he had given Wilson. She dropped her head.

"Oh God."

She looked up at Wilson with a sorrowful face.

"You told him?"  
"Hey, he found out on his own. He's just pissed now."  
"Then why are you angry?"  
"Because neither of you told me."

Wilson shifted towards her couch and Cuddy stood up from her chair as House remained stiff at her doors.

"Two weeks. Two weeks?"  
"How did you even find out?"  
"Mrs. No balls Wilson over there left your results on his desk. Found them earlier today."  
"God! I was going to tell you. I knew you were going to blow this way out of proportion."  
"You think I'm overreacting?"  
"I didn't say that."  
"I'm sorry, but the idea of my girlfriend dying isn't something I'd like to be kept secret from me. And certainly not something I can take lightly."  
"I wasn't going to keep it from you forever."  
"Just me?"  
"No, it was only supposed to be between me and Wilson, no one else. You would've been the first to tell on my list."  
"_You_ told them?"

He had looked at Wilson. So did she.

"Look, they saw her crying okay? I didn't know what else to say."  
"You could've made something up?" Cuddy defended.  
"God."

Wilson was slightly upset as he sat back on the couch with a sigh, and things were still tense between House and Cuddy. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his vicodin. He spilled out four tablets.

"Oh God, not now!"  
"House!"

He threw all four within his mouth and crushed each one with his teeth to release his anger.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?"  
"You're already dying, might as well."  
"Don't say that."

Wilson got up from the couch and stole away House's bottle of vicodin. He tossed it in the trash.

"You do know I can just, go over there and take them out?"  
"Why are you doing this."  
"I don't know what else to do."  
"So your last resort is to drugs?"  
"Yes."  
"You're throwing everything we worked with down the drain, are you prepared for that?"  
"YES! I'm not prepared to lose you without any say in it."  
"So you're saying you're scared to be alone?"  
"Yes."

Her face dropped. Along with her jaw.

"It's my fault."

Their heads turned to Wilson.

"House is right. I should've told him. I had plenty of opportunities. He's involved with this, deeper than it may seem to you Cuddy. And FYI, fighting, is at the bottom of the list of what you two should be doing right now."

Cuddy was on the verge of tears. She bite her lip to keep herself from sobbing. House's head was bowed to the floor. House turned away. Cuddy looked at him from her side of the room. Then, she started walking slowly towards him. He looked right at her. She was inches away from him. Then he spoke.

"What were you afraid of." he said blankly.  
"What?"  
"Why were you afraid to tell me."  
"I didn't want you--doing something stupid."  
"See, if you had told me sooner we could've possibly stopped this."  
"This is why I didn't want to tell you."  
"Because I would try to save your life?"  
"Because, I know you, and I know that you would try to save something that you _can't_. This is something no one could've prevented or saved."  
"If I had time--"

Wilson kind of bowed his head and put his hands over his face. It saddened him so much to listen to this conversation. She had put her hands on his neck, and finally let go of the tears. They fell down her face, one after the other. She struggled for a smile as House himself swallowed his tears in agony. Both felt so much agony, that they began to whisper. Talking aloud was already hard enough to do.

"There's nothing that you could've done."  
"You don't know that."  
"I do."  
"I--I could've done something. Anything to give you time--"  
"House, you're not God. And I never expected that out of you, despite what other people may think. You've saved thousands of lives others couldn't save, but--my life--isn't--it isn't one of them."  
"If I had known sooner--"  
"No. Shush."  
"I should have--"  
"Please don't start blaming yourself for this. This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you. You figure, it's your fault that I'm dying."  
"I do."  
"But it's not. Even Wilson didn't see this coming."  
"He hasn't been with you. He doesn't constantly see you like I do, even when we weren't together. If I don't blame myself for this, who's left to blame."  
"No one."

He silenced himself. His eyes gleamed with tears as he looked away from her. They both sniffled constantly and shook with sadness as they stood before each other. After a minute or so, she hugged him. She wrapped her arms around his neck so tight. They both shut their eyes as he hugged back.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry."  
"No," he shook his head a little.  
"No. I am."  
"Sorry for what?"

He released their hug and he put his hand on her neck.

"That I can't sit and slowly watch you disappear out of my life. At all costs, I'm gonna find a way. I may not be God, but I'm damn close."

And he walked out of her office after taking a glance towards her and then Wilson. He limped off, prepared to find a way to save her life, one way or another.


	10. Third Stage: Bargaining

**Author's note: Any quotes and or poems used in this entire story are written by me.**

* * *

"_Time, is a very strange thing, depending on how you look at it. For some, time can be the ultimate savior. For others it can be, an unnecessary label used to tell us what to do, and when to do it.  
But time can also be seen as a limit, or a deadline for some. For those who are grieving and mourning through life, it's a never ending hell.  
Then, there are those who are in love.  
And that's when time can be seen in many ways.  
For some in love, time can move too swiftly.  
For others in love, time can seem never ending.  
And then there are those rare few in love, who love devotedly, compassionately, and relentlessly, in spite of time itself._"  
-James Evan Wilson

* * *

It had been three days since their argument in her office. House had stayed a total of sixty-three hours at the office since. With only three hours of sleep for each night, the rest of the twenty-one hours, he would spend making phone calls, reading articles and researching over the computer. House was determined to find an answer. Was he trying to find a cure? No. But he was trying to find a way so preserve the time she had left. Or possibly even, spare her more time.

Within this time span of three days, it had leaked out to the staff about Cuddy, bringing the hospital to a more awkward mood, and a saddened tone. It made things all the worse, not for Cuddy, but for House, who had to deal with his employees and fellow colleagues attempting to send their condolences. He tried avoiding everyone, even Cuddy, at all costs. After the three days however, he decided to approach Wilson. He was alone in his office when House had entered, but new to his eyes that he had not been doing his work.

"Where the hell have you been these past few days?" His voice was alarmed and slightly aggravated.  
"Around. And you?"  
"I'm where you should've been these past few days. Helping her cope with this."  
"Well, as much work as that is, I've been trying to save her life."  
"Not this again. She's right House. There is no cure for terminal cancer. The reason behind it being terminal, is because it's TERMINAL."  
"So negative aren't we today?"  
"House. I am in no mood for you to jerk me around today."  
"Busy?"  
"With some _things_."  
"Those things."  
"Yeah. Look I'm sorry. It's just, hard on all of us."  
"Spare me the speech."

Wilson went to rub his face out of either misery, exhaustion, or annoyance.

"I couldn't find anything."  
"I wasn't expecting you to." He paused.  
"Were _you_ expecting to?"  
"Not a cure. Just--something."  
"The treatment should keep her steady for a couple months."  
"It's not enough."  
"What do you think you could've possibly done? Cuddy's right House, you're not God. You don't have the answer to everything."  
"I know that."  
"So why have you been wasting your time with all of this--?"  
"I have to find a way to fight back, don't I?"  
"But you can't--"  
"I couldn't do anything else. Sleep isn't an option anymore. Rest, isn't an option anymore. Might as well have sold my soul to Lucifer."  
"Which also poses another question."  
"Damn."  
" 'The idea that the woman I love is dying, can't really be kept from me.' "  
"That was a euphemism. A euphemism for, 'I love her so goddamn much, I know what _is_ every second of her life."  
"Are you really sure this isn't impulse talking? You've never said that until--"  
"I'm well aware of what I've said Wilson. What I've said, hasn't and doesn't change what has happened in the past twenty years. I've loved the same woman for these twenty-some years."  
"I was just wondering, if you weren't I'd consider you an ass. Or more of one than I thought of you before--if that makes sense."  
"Per-fect-ly."  
"Why are you even here? Out of all the people--"  
"Yeah yeah, again, spare me the speech. People are in her office."  
"They're sending their condolences."  
"And you can't stand to be around any of them."  
"Except for her, yeah."  
"Maybe you should go anyway."  
"Was I just talking to you--or?"  
"Maybe you need some--condoling too."  
"You people think I need everything."  
"House."  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm going."

He began to limp for the door and right as he stepped out, Wilson stopped him.

"House!"

He stopped dead outside and turned around and moved half of his body inside.

"You know, you should really make up your mind. Am I staying or not?"  
"I'm--sorry."  
"Apology. Why."  
"For, everything."

He pursed his lips a little and gave a curt nod. Wilson replied and then he shut the door, making his way for Cuddy's office.

* * *

  
_Minutes later_

House was opening the doors to the clinic and took a glance towards Cuddy's office to see who was surrounding her now. But the only person he found, was Cameron. She was sitting on the edge of Cuddy's desk as Cuddy sat on the couch as they conversed with each other. He walked through the two set of doors, slowly, making sure not to interrupt their conversation.

"It's something I just hadn't see in him--"

Cuddy stopped as he closed the door behind him.

"Continue." And he gestured them to keep conversing.  
"We were finished." Cameron retorted.  
"No you weren't."  
"Who cares?" She asked calmly.  
"I do."  
"Me and her always have later."  
"Doubt that."  
"She's my boss but I find time to talk to her. It's called an out-of-work friendship."  
"I remember when you and Chase developed your 'out-of-work friendship'. I hadn't planned on watching it develop, but I had to find a trash can somewhere."

Cuddy broke a big smile. Nearly a laugh. The best she's had in days. Cameron, kept herself smiling too.

"Oh of course. Cuddy's also told me how you two have begun to develop your out-of-work friendship. Going well?"  
"Most definitely."  
"And where have you been these last few days?"  
"Around."  
"Oh really?"

He glanced at Cuddy.

"Really."

Cameron felt out of place, so she decided to leave the two be, and discuss whatever was needed to be discussed.

"I'll talk to you later Cuddy."

Cameron stood up straight and off the edge of the desk as she glared at House. He returned the same look back. But as she past him, she whispered something inconspicuously to him, making sure Cuddy wouldn't notice.

_"We need to talk."_

And she walked out and smiled at Cuddy in the process. Then he turned to her and began to limp over by the couch. He fell back and laid his arms across the armrest and the cushions on the couch. Cuddy looked away for a brief second, before turning to look at him.

"Where _have_ you been these past few days?"

He looked away, almost as if in regret. Why had he come back here. For condoling? Not anymore. His ears were soon to be filled with lecture.

"Be honest with me."  
"When have we ever been down that road."  
"House."  
"Research."  
"For what."  
"Cancer."  
"That was a rhetorical question."  
"I know."  
"Haven't we been through this?"  
"You out of all people should know why I did what I did. I'm not looking for a cure. I'm looking for something to give you time."  
"Who said the radiation and other treatment wouldn't give me time?"  
"No one."  
"Then why are you researching?"  
"It isn't giving you enough time."  
"I don't need time. I'm happy for what I have now."  
"You've got a deadline Cuddy."  
"I have a good job, I've got a great kid, friends, family, and most importantly I have you to walk me through this."  
"And as I walk you through this, I want to be able to protect you from meeting that end. I can't just let you waltz into your grave without fighting this, without knowing that there is possibly something that could help prolong your life, just that much longer."  
"I know you mean good. But right now, what you're doing is trying to bargain with God. You are hoping to find an answer so he'll keep me here for how many months, how many years. But you are setting your expectations of finding something, way too high. I've accepted this. Why can't you do that for me?"  
"I love you okay? But you can't expect me to accept this even--after."

He set his leg up on the table as she looked at him curiously and in a slight shock.

"What?"  
"What."  
"What did you--"  
"Yeah, I love you by the way."

Now she was surprised. Surprised as how casually he said this to her. Calmly, and without a single stutter, or hesitation.

"I am capable of love. You--really shouldn't be shocked at that factor."  
"We've been dating for how long?"  
"I've known you since when? The amount of time we've been dating doesn't cancel out everything we've been through prior to. Twenty years Cuddy. Twenty years I've spent loving you and I'm just realizing it now. Boy, have I gotten stupid. You really shouldn't have put me as the head of diagnostics."  
"You never said anything."  
"Again, I just realized it. Am I talking to myself everywhere today?"  
"I don't get how you can say this _now_."  
"Three words Cuddy. All three, within my vocabulary."  
"Oh, I'm sure."

He laid back onto the couch and shut his eyes, apparently trying to go to sleep.

"Three hours of sleep every night, staring at the damn computer for the other twenty-one, and I didn't find a damn thing. I'm actually starting to see words just popping out of think air and floating around."  
"You need sleep."  
"No, of course not."  
"Stay here, take a nap or something on the couch. I'll go finish my talk with Cameron."

She got up off the couch and patted him on his shoulder as she went to go turn off the light.

"Now you go finish cause you have new info."  
"What do you mean?"

He shifted his position and lied down on the couch and folded his arms behind his head and looked at her.

"Now you can let her know that I told you I love you. Best gossip she'll be getting all day."

He closed his eyes. She smiled and closed all the blinds before making her way to the doors. She opened it halfway, before turning around for the last time.

"House."  
"You gonna let me sleep or what, I know you're about to say something cause you haven't closed the door yet."  
"And the fact because I called your name?"  
"Yeah, yeah,"  
"You know--I love you too."

He smiled. But he still kept his eyes shut.

"I know. Twenty goddamn years, if neither of us did, I'd probably marry Wilson."

He gave a smirk as she managed to break a laugh.

"Night, House."  
"Love you, Cuddy."

She closed the door. House was about to get the best sleep he's had in days, and Cuddy was feeling the best she had felt in days.


	11. Sympathy and Empathy

_Later that day 7:00 p.m._

House had already woken up from his nap that lasted nearly twelve hours. He had woken up about fifteen minutes before seven, and made his way back to his office. As he finalized some paperwork and threw his signature here and there, he got visited by his three previous employees. They all came to visit at the same time, without notice and without hesitation. He wasn't even paying attention when they arrived, he was more focused on signing his paperwork that he didn't even care for, rather than listen to what they had to say.

"Hey."

They all lined up around his desk as Cameron had taken the first approach. Would he bite? Or swim away like always? You'd expect the most likely choice wouldn't you?

"Hey." He replied. He refused to look up, but still carried the conversation with them. They all took turns saying something, rotating from Cameron, to Foreman and to Chase.

"Um. Are you okay?"  
"You wanna know how many times I've been asked that?"  
"You think you could actually answer our questions instead of posing new ones for us to answer?"  
"No."  
"Shut up Foreman, his girlfriend's dying. You can't really expect him to be less irritable."  
"Same kiss ass Chase."  
"How you been holding up?"  
"I'm fine."  
"No you're not."  
"No, seriously, I'm fine."  
"We don't need the sarcasm, alright? Were trying to help you here."  
"By feeding me your sympathy? I feel I'll do much better without it anyway."  
"Say whatever you want House. Were not leaving."  
"I know your leash on Chase. What's yours on Foreman?"  
"The fact that I might care?"  
"Nah."  
"No really, he doesn't have a leash. To be honest, neither do I. She didn't put us up to this."

He finally looked up at them. They saw the exhaustion in his eyes and the pain that rested. He had finally finished up his paperwork and closed a file and set it aside. He kicked back and listened what they had to say to him, with the occasional remark.

"Were sorry, House."  
"And we know what you're going through."  
"To see a loved one--in pain, in distress the whole depressing deal."  
"And why are you apologizing to me?"  
"Because we feel bad?"  
"We are human House."  
"And, we give sympathy."  
"But out of what? You guys didn't do anything. You didn't give her the cancer. You didn't allow it to metastasize."  
"We're apologizing because we know how much this is hurting you."  
"We feel bad about, everything that's happened to you in your life."  
"This has added to that misery."  
"So out of guilt?"  
"No!"  
"Even when you're this miserable, you're still impossible."  
"Oh yeah, deflect."

Cameron and Foreman turned to Chase. House just grinned at his cunning prodigy. Back and forth, it was Chase and House.

"Elaborate."  
"You're not doing this because you're an ass. And you're not doing this to piss us off."  
"Go on."  
"And the only reasonable explanation left is--"  
"Yes?"  
"You're--afraid. Afraid of--all of this. How it will turn out--despite the fact that you already know how it will end up."

He paused, and he left his mouth open about to say something, but he took a breath instead and finally spoke.

"You're afraid of the truth. This particular truth. And to deflect, you obsess over why we are apologizing. But you know we do care. You just--want to piss us off, so that we can leave, and you won't have to say anything."

Cameron and Foreman were shocked and curious at all his retorts. House smiled gladly.

"Well done. Now, we can talk about it."  
"That simple?"  
"I feel stupid."  
"You should. We've been working with him for how long and you didn't catch that?"  
"I knew I had an impact on you."  
"Okay. Anyways. She tells me that--you've been trying to find a cure for her?"  
"If scientists all around the world can't, what makes you think you can?"  
"Well, he is a famous diagnostician known world-wide, and he's solved unexplainable cases and saved lives that your average doctor couldn't. I think he has a fair chance in finding it."  
"Give me the statistics."  
"Honestly?"  
"Don't."  
"I'd say--one in a million chance you could find the cure to cancer, as opposed to all the other scientists, one in a billion chance they could find the cure. Just focusing on you, forty percent chance you could find it, sixty percent says you can't."  
"God, you're such a kiss ass." House complained.  
"I believe it." Cameron defended.  
"Couples ALWAYS back the other up. With--the exception of me and Cuddy."  
"Oh I believe that." Cameron confessed.  
"Don't we all?" Foreman added.  
"Not all the time. No, sometimes you do."  
"Barely." House retorted.  
"I never really expected you two to ever get together but--"  
"Please tell me were not going to go all mushy on this. Can I leave now, you've gotten my sympathy or whatever you wanted from me."  
"No one's stopping you."  
"Good," he said and walked towards the doors.  
"Later Homez."

Now it was just Cameron and Chase. Chase finally took his place over on House's recliner as Cameron and House discussed some things. He didn't get involved, but he added in the occasional remark.

"As I was saying--you two fit well. I mean, you've been a major pain in the ass to her before but--she's cared about you a lot for a while. Goes the same for you towards her. I don't know why you guys didn't make something of it a while back."  
"Because he's a narcissistic pain in the ass that doesn't show his feelings. It's his own damn fault."  
"You're brilliance tonight is--irrefutable. I like it."  
"You call that brilliance?"  
"What else would you call it?"  
"Acting like you?"  
"Not necessarily acting like me--analyzing and thinking like me however. That's the brilliance of it."

Chase gave a smirk as he laid back on the recliner. Cameron managed to break a smile too.

"And she told me."  
"Which was?"  
"What you told her."  
"I tell her a lot of things. I told her--something about marrying Wilson I think?"  
"What?!?"

Chase had shot up from the chair and looked at House. His face was shocked, but shocked with a grin.

"I don't remember, but, go on?"  
"How you told her, you loved her."  
"WHAT?!?"

Chase had yelled even louder this time. He stood up from the recliner and decided to join the conversation.

"This is true."

They both smiled to the revealing of the truth. House was capable of feelings. Those deep, deep emotions we all feel at one point or another in our lives.

"She was pretty happy when she told me about it."  
"Why am I always the last to find out about things?"  
"No you're not."  
"Yes he is."  
"I was the last to find out that--you two had got together. I was the last to find out that she had terminal cancer and now this."  
"Well, I'm sure Foreman doesn't know."  
"No, no, he does. That's kind of why he left. He had run into my conversation with her."  
"Damn it."  
"Well, I don't know what to say kid. Brilliance, again, irrefutable, however your ties to the loop. Those still remain to be seen."  
"Well, it's getting late so. We should be going."  
"Of course."

Cameron walked behind his desk as he stood up from his chair, grabbing his cane. She stood in front of him for a second, and Chase followed close behind.

"What?"

Cameron went and hugged him. House surprisingly, hugged back, after a couple seconds. Then they released and she just looked at him.

"She's in our prayers."  
"God, don't get me started."

She laughed, and moved aside for Chase to give him a hug. They patted each other on the back, like how every other guy hug would be. Then they released.

"Were sorry."  
"And I know."

They struggled for a half smile to give to him and then turned around and made their way out of his office. Chase put his arm around her as they opened the doors and walked out of his sight. Within minutes, he packed up and turned off his lights, and went home, to get a full nights rest.


	12. Admittance

It had been a month since the drama concerning Cuddy occurred at PPTH. Things were settled and calmed down. But the sadness still remained. It was clear, to everyone, that things would soon change at the PPTH, once she's gone. And this hurt the faculty and staff, very deeply. Cuddy, had been a hard working, and determined boss, for all of them. As Dean of Medicine and the hospital administrator, she did her best, for not only the sake of the patients, but for her employees. At her departure, many would be grieving. In fact, despite her presence now, many are. And some, more so than others.

* * *

  
House hadn't been staying at Cuddy's for quite some time. He insisted on staying at his rightful place in his apartment. Some days, he wouldn't show up. No one would hear from him for a whole day, and sometimes, maybe even two. Other days, he would come back--but he wasn't really there. However, he showed up eventually. After Cuddy had given him a whole lecture about his obligations at the moment. And he listened without his own consent. He listened not because he wanted to or because he had to. He did it because it was what she wanted.

Wilson and House were eating lunch at a later time that day. Little conversation was held between the two from the very start of their lunch. As time progressed, and nurses and doctors had left, soon enough, barely anyone was there. Then, their conversation grew to it's extent.

"You're too quiet today. Something on your mind?"  
"Yeah, the approaching death of my girlfriend."

Wilson scrunched his face and then shook no. He grabbed a napkin from a dispenser on their table and wiped his mouth, crumpled it and threw it aside, then cleared his throat.

"Something's bothering you. Besides that. Something, past the dying thing. It's about Cuddy, but not about the cancer."

House shifted himself further into the booth and moved his legs up onto the seat to rest them both. He laid his elbow down on the table, and rested his head on his clenched fist. He looked away from Wilson, and popped in to both their surprise, a vicodin.

"Where did you get that?"  
"Old."  
"Why are you back on it?"  
"Too many to tell. Just relax. I take two a day, tops."

Wilson looked away and continued to try to find, meaning and reason in House.

"What am I supposed to do." he said blankly.  
"What?"  
"What do I do, when she's gone."

Wilson's face turned curious. His mouth dangled open, without words and without sound. Eventually, he managed to throw out some words.

"You--well. You saw me when Amber died."  
"First of all, I'm not you. Second of all, you had me to bitch at, cause it was partially my fault--"  
"No it wasn't."  
"Third--she didn't die of a terminal illness."  
"Well, all that, with the exception of the second one, is true. But--you will do most of the things I did. For a while, you won't be able to fully grasp it. It'll feel, surreal. And then, you'll get angry. With yourself, and everyone else around you. And then, after a while you will face the longest and most painful stage of grief. The depression. It will hurt and you will refuse to do anything. After a while, you'll see the light and--you'll accept it. All of it. And you will, you will move on."

House turned to face Wilson. He had a half grin on his face and closed his eyes. Wilson didn't understand.

"I've been through denial. I've been through anger. I've done the bargaining. I am depression. But I'm sure as hell not going to acceptance."  
"House--despite the fact that you are, well you, you aren't deprived of everything and anything everyone else goes through. Eventually you're going to have to accept this--"  
"No. She might have. You will also. Same goes for probably, everyone else. Not me."  
"You just have to give it time."  
"Time. That word scares the hell out of me."  
"Doesn't it?"

Suddenly the table started vibrating. House and Wilson's phones had gone off, simultaneously. Each receiving a text message. Both read:

_Cuddy:_

Help - my office.

3:35pm Tues, June 12

Both of them looked at each other and practically sprinted out of there. This was no ordinary cry for help. If it was some type of help for her office, or for clinic duty or anything beneficial to the hospital, or anything concerning patients, she would've called. But this was a real cry for help - related to her current condition.

_Within less than one minute_

They had rushed out and threw open the doors to the clinic as bystanders gawked at them as they hurriedly made their way into her office. They found her collapsed on her knees, coughing up blood on the floor. Both of them rushed to her side. As House helped her off the floor and onto the couch, Wilson tried cleaning up the blood. He rushed into the bathroom and grabbed paper towel to wipe down the carpet, and to wipe her face. House was trying to calm her cough attack, as they sat together on the couch. Her coughs continued but the blood had stopped. House knelt down on the floor in front of her as Wilson went to sit by her on the couch. He glanced up at him, as he took a hard swallow.

"Think it's about time we should admit her huh?"


	13. Stage Four: Depression

House had admitted Cuddy under his name into one of the rooms that was still available. Though she was in critical condition, it wasn't enough to put her into ICU.

It had been two hours since her cough attack in the office, and she was resting fast asleep in her room with of course, House standing by. He had been sitting at her bedside for the whole two hours she was there. He had pulled up a chair from the corner of the room, and sat close to her. Within those two hours, he had fallen asleep, head had dropped onto the bed as he was holding her hand. Eventually, she woke up, and saw him sleeping, with his head on her stomach. She smiled for a moment and then took her free hand, to run her fingers through his hair. After a few seconds, he rose up his head and looked around sleepily, grinding his teeth. And he looked towards Cuddy he was half smiling at him as he was coming to.

"Why are you still here."  
"Why are you awake?"  
"It's almost six."  
"And your point being?"  
"Go home. Get proper rest. Go take care of the baby."  
"I don't have a home. I have an apartment. And your house. Those aren't homes, those are merely buildings created for living and shelter. And I've gotten all the rest I need. I'm picking her up at six."  
"And you have to go home with her, and not drop her off at my moms' place."  
"Actually I was planning to just, throw her in a dumpster. You know."  
"Stay with her for me."  
"I'm bringing her to my mom."  
"Who lives fifteen to twenty minutes away?"  
"She's staying at my place. Or she will be at six."  
"I don't want you staying here, twenty four/seven. You don't need to. I'm under perfect care."  
"Who said I need to."

She stopped fighting with him. She knew there was no point in arguing, as he had already made up his mind. They stood in silence for a while. They just stared at each other. He was inhaling and exhaling quick amounts of air, almost as if he were angry.

"I hate this."  
"I know. You should go pick her up."

He sighed. He stood up, being careful of his leg, and found to his surprise they were still holding hands. He looked at her, sincerely, before bending down and giving her a kiss. It was the first real one they had in a long time. After he released, he kissed her on the forehead before taking off.

"I'll be back."

He wasn't certain why he said this, for she knew he would. I guess, with the situation at hand, he felt the need to be reassuring. She gave a nod, and let go of his hand as he limped out of the room and out of her sight.

* * *

  
_6:24 p.m._

"She's sick mom."

House was back in his apartment sitting on the couch with Blythe as Rachel sat on her lap. Blythe was trying her best to process the news, but she couldn't.

"How sick, Greg."  
"Lung cancer."  
"Oh God."  
"She's terminal."  
"How long does she have?"  
"A few months maybe. She's just--"  
"I'm sorry honey."

She held her little boys' hand as they sat together on the couch. There was a long pause between them. The only sound that echoed through the apartment was Rachel, who was cooing and making spit noises. But eventually, House brought up the courage to ask what not many people could answer, and make the answer being something he believed in.

"I don't--uh. I don't know what to do."  
"There's nothing you can do."  
"Not like that. I don't, know what to do when she's gone."  
"Well. You live your life."

She paused, and gave him a moment to think about that before continuing.

"When she's gone--you can mourn. You can grieve. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if you shed a few tears. But--you will need to move on. Not because you want to, or because you've accepted--it, but because it's the right thing to do. Even though she's gone, she knows you. And I'm sure, that she doesn't want you wasting your life away because of this. It's the circle of life, hun. We're born, we live, we die. And life goes on."  
"And what should I be saying to her?"  
"You sound like such a lost little boy. Asking all these questions like you did when you were younger. There's no right or wrong answer here, Greg. You have to trust yourself sometimes. You tell her, what you think you should be telling her. Tell her, you love her. That you'll be there. Don't let her see you grieving for the last moments of her life. She wants to see you happy, as I'm sure you would the same. Now get out of here. I got this little one covered."

He smiled at his mother and gave her a kiss on the forehead for old times sake, and left, off to do something he's never done before.


	14. The Date

_Later that night 10:49 p.m._

The hospital was fairly empty. Empty and quiet. The only people around were some nurses, and a few doctors standing by in their offices, catching up on paperwork and anything else they needed to take care of. House slid open the door to Cuddy's room, and carefully walked inside. He had taken a seat in the corner of the room and began to search his pockets for something. Cuddy, was on the bed, asleep, but not for long. She woke up soon enough, and spoke in a hushed tone.

"What--are you doing?"  
"Something."  
"That helps."

He pulled out a needle and rolled up his pant leg. Then he took off the cap and tested the needle, and injected it into his scar. Cuddy's voice and face were very alarmed as she sat upright in bed.

"What is that?"  
"A little morphine."  
"A little? A little by how much?"  
"Enough to let me walk properly for about couple hours, or so."  
"Why?"

He rolled down his pant leg and walked over to Cuddy, beginning to remove all the chords from her.

"What are you doing?"

He began to help her out of bed and onto the cold floor.

"I'm sneaking you out of here."  
"Why?"  
"We're going somewhere. Can you walk?"  
"Yeah I should be fine."  
"But you're not wearing shoes."  
"It's okay."  
"Get on."  
"House. I am not riding on your back out of here."  
"It's either that, or I carry you."

She pursed her lips and shook her head, and got on.

"Where are you taking me."  
"Somewhere. Grab the paper in my pocket, and put the tab of tape on the door."  
"What is it?"  
"You're full of questions tonight aren't you?"  
"Well I wouldn't be if--ugh--you weren't doing all of--this."

She struggled to stay leveled on his back as they walked out of her room. As he slid the door shut, Cuddy put the note on the door. Then they took off for the stairs.

"This, is ridiculous."  
"It just might be."  
"Then why are we doing this?"  
"Because, I'm not going to have you stay in that bed for the next few months you have, staring at a wall, dying of boredom before dying of cancer."

She just smiled and rested her chin on his shoulder, and she held on tight, as they descended down the stairs. They sneaked out through the front doors, got in House's car, and drove off into the night.

_Later that night 11:53 p.m._

"Where the hell are we?"  
"Cemetery."  
"Why. The hell are we at a cemetery."

Her voice was dead and tired as House pulled up on the side of the empty one way road. He got out of the car and and went to her side and carried her out, slamming the door shut with his foot in the process. She was only still in her hospital gown and barefoot, so he insisted to carry her all the way there.

"Lock the car."  
"Im not even half awake and you expect me to--"  
"Just press the button on the remote."  
"Fine, fine, fine."  
"Why are we at a cemetery."  
"Were going somewhere in it."  
"Were going to see tombstones and graves?"  
"Nope."  
"What else is left to see?"  
"In a normal cemetery? Nothing. But in this--particular--one, there's more to it than just dead people."  
"Wonderful."

They walked deeper into the forest, walking around trees, dodging the dense fog, hoping to make it to their destination. Within a matter of minutes, they reached a gate, and they could see the graves in a distance. Once they approached the gate, he pulled out his car keys and managed to unlock it, allowing them to proceed on.

"Why do you have a key to a cemetery?"  
"Why not?"  
"Because it's--strange. In fact, a little creepy."  
"Not with a place like this."  
"What is your deal about this place?"  
"Its easier for me if you just wait till we get there, instead of trying to hold a conversation with you while carrying you, while partially high."

She silenced herself and soon enough, they reached the center of it all. At the edge of the forest, vast fields begun and stretched over the land. Most of which, was covered in graves and tombstones. Although, with the exception of the small pond. Yes, this elegant and graceful pond that rested beneath several trees was where he had been planning to take her. They rested underneath the first tree along the edge of the pond. Blankets had already been set up by House himself, probably an hour or so prior to. House laid her gently onto the blanket, and lied down right next to her as they gazed at the beauty all around them.

"Why did you bring me here?"  
"Mason O'Reilly Cemetery. Just enjoy it, don't start by asking more questions."  
"House."  
"It's uh--just somewhere I needed to bring you. Just consider this our first--date."

He propped up his head on his hand and stared beyond Cuddy. He refused to have their eyes meet. So he kept his eyes across the pond as Cuddy gazed sleepily towards the sky.  
"Something on your mind?"  
"A lot of things."  
"Oh. Well, do you wanna talk about it? Get a few things off your chest?"  
"Not tonight."  
"You're seriously going to play that? Let's see how that works out."  
"I didn't bring you here to talk about my problems."  
"Then why did you?"  
"I--to spend time with you. Like I always have."  
"I can't spend time with you the way I want to, if you're going to be like this all night."

He took a sigh, and looked over harder and began talking.

"You happy?"  
"Of course."  
"I don't mean right now. With your life--are you satisfied?"  
"Why are you--"  
"Are you satisfied with your ending. Right now."  
"I wouldn't say--satisfied. I've accepted it but."  
"If I could change--something of your end--would you want me to?"  
"We've been through this."  
"That's not what I'm talking about."  
"Then--"  
"Forget it. I'll be back."  
"Where are you going?"

He stood up and took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and began to walk over to the pond.

"I gotta use all the energy left in my leg before this wears out!"

And to her surprise, he jumped into the pond, diving in. She stood up and ran down the hill towards the edge of the pond to see where he had gone. She bent down to look into the water. Eventually, he rose to the surface about a few feet away in the water, Gasping.

"Are you crazy?"  
"Not quite. Going down there, with my bum leg, now that's crazy."

* * *

_At the hospital 12:16 a.m._

Wilson was in his sweats and was walking down the corridor with one of the nurses. He appeared very tired, and annoyed as he made his way towards Cuddy's room. The nurse began to explain to him what happened.

"She just disappeared."  
"Are you--positively sure, that she isn't just, in one of the bathrooms, or she discharged herself?"  
"She was here. Right up until around eleven. And she was gone."  
"What's this?"

Wilson had noticed the note on the door that had read, "Wilson", that stuck from a tab of tape. He ripped it off the glass and opened the note, and read it to himself.

_Wilson -  
Do I owe you an explanation? Well, certainly, seeing as she is your patient, but, first off, she's my girlfriend before your patient, and even before your friend. So her whereabouts certainly don't concern you. But if you should know, I let her out, and I took her on our first, real date. Do not look for us, we'll be out all night. Don't check my home, my mom and Rachel will probably be fairly pissed with you if you go rapping on my apartment door. Don't check Cuddy's because, well you wouldn't anyway. I'll bring her back by tomorrow. I don't know when yet, seeing as I don't know what time we'll both be conscious but, to keep your mind at rest, we're perfectly fine, so is she. So go home, go back to sleep, and we'll see you in the morning.  
-House_

Wilson just rolled his eyes, and began to walk towards the elevators. As he did so, he called back to the nurse.

"Next time, don't call me if it's not an emergency. She's with House."

And he stepped into the elevator, and yawned, unsurprised, and a little entertained by the note.

* * *

He tread the water to stay afloat as he kept his conversation with Cuddy.

"Come in here."  
"No."  
"For ten minutes."  
"I'm wearing a hospital gown. And it's the only clothing that I have with me. Do you really expect me to just, hop in there with you?"  
"Take, it, off."  
"You'd like that wouldn't you?"  
"Fine. Watch me have fun."  
"Gladly."

Suddenly, he jerked in the water. He stopped treading, and had one hand clasped to his leg.

"Damn it."  
"What's wrong?"  
"Morphine's wearing off."  
"Oh God."  
"Call Wilson."  
"He's like an hour away!"  
"He's ten minutes away from here, I just drove us around for a while."  
"I'm coming in."  
"Don't. You couldn't save me from drowning on a normal basis, what makes you think you can in your current condition?"

Too late to convince her otherwise, she had already jumped in and began to swim towards him, trying to lift him to the surface, but surprisingly, he managed to do that on his own.

"You came in."  
"You jerk."  
"I didn't think you would."  
"To save your life, I would. I always save your ass."  
"At least you came in."

She shook her head at him as they both were floating in the water. The moon was set high in the sky, and illuminating all of it, casting streaks of rays to come down across the water, reflecting back, like a mirror. But the reflected images were scattered as they moved along the water, shifting tiny waves here and there. They kept talking as they transferred from one side to the other. But eventually, Cuddy started coughing.

"Come on."  
"I'm fine, I just choked on a little water."

He swam with her in his grip all the way to the edge of the pond, and lifted her up out of the water, onto the grass. He then too, lifted himself out, and sat as they were both drenched.

"You're really compromising things for this."  
"I have to. Boundaries should be kept. You of all people would understand that."  
"You take precautions, unnecessary and irrelevant to this. Boundaries I understand. Everything else, no."

They both sat on the edge of the pond, drenched, and tired. Their hair was matted and clumped together, as water dripped from every strand. Their clothes were soaking and clinging to their bodies as the summer night breeze blew, caressing their faces. That's when Cuddy stood up, and posed an odd question.

"You wanna dance?"

He gazed up at her.

"No, music?"  
"Why not? And you're...somewhat of a musician. I'm sure you can come up with something."  
"Well, no instruments on me tonight."

He stood up, and looked the other way and smiled.

"But I have an idea. Wait here."

He began to walk back up the hill, passing their spot under the tree, and back into the forest, disappearing into the shadows. Within minutes, music sounded from the forest, and began to echo out by the fields. More than Words by Extreme, began to play from his car radio as he walked back out, and onto the fields, where he met Cuddy and caught her hand to dance.

"I thought, I still got some leg in me. Might as well."

She smiled as he rocked her back and forth in the moonlight and under the shadows as the notes and voices filled the air.

"I can't believe we're doing this."  
"You wanted to."  
"I'm in a hospital gown, drenched, dancing with you in a cemetery, to the radio in your car."  
"Sounds a little funny."  
"A little bit yeah."

They danced throughout at least four more songs before heading back to their blanket. House had quickly run back to the car to turn it off, and returned to the blanket with her. They were now relatively dry, and could rest properly. House had lied flat on the blanket, and Cuddy lied beside him, holding his hand.

"You never answered my question."

They both lied on the blankets in silence as he hesitated to answer. He propped himself back up on his hand again, and stared at the ground. Finally, he just forced it out.

"Would you be happier, if I asked you to marry me?"

Her face tensed and turned her head to look up at him, unsure of what he was implying or even what he asked.

"I'm-I'm sorry?"  
"I'm not asking you. I'm asking you if that's something you want. This is what I was talking about earlier."  
"I-I-? Do you?"

He refused to speak. She looked up at him shell shocked.

"You know I can't--I can't."  
"Is it what you would want?"  
"Is that what _you_ want? House. I don't expect anything from you in this relationship. Or, whatever this is. We both knew--this wasn't something we--we could never have--"  
"Shush. A question."  
"But seriously. We--aren't a happy--I don't know."  
"Just wanted to know, if that would make you happy."  
"House. You know, me and you--both our lives are not even remotely close to happy. I may not be happy, but I'm satisfied with my life's turn out right now."  
"So you're satisfied with dying. Okay, you should've let me know earlier, I could've done something faster."  
"Stop that. The last thing on my mind right now is something stupid like that."  
"You never referred marriage to being stupid."  
"I wanted to get married--"  
"So why not now?"  
"Before I met you."  
"So you're saying, because of me, you don't want to get married?"  
"Well, I've realized that we don't need to have a ceremony and a whole sermon and vows and unnecessary things, to prove how much one person loves the other. We don't need marriage to bind us more than we already are. We're not a marrying kind of--couple."

He finally looked down at her.

"And I don't want you doing something you don't want to do, because you felt you were obligated to do it."  
"With that, I'm not making any promises."  
"House."  
"There are some things that should be done."  
"House."  
"You can't expect me to not do a few things--"  
"Shut up. I seriously want you to shut up, and stop ruining our date tonight. Which is probably the strangest date I will ever have, seeing as its on cemetery grounds."

She smiled at him as his head arched over her. He locked a stare on her.

"So serious."  
"Mm."  
"I think I can rectify that."

She raised her head up and kissed him, for several seconds, before dropping back down onto the ground. He grinned.

"I'm gonna miss you."

Her smile vanished. She swallowed and looked away from him.

"Why do you always do that."  
"Stop."

Her eyes returned to his. Soft slate eyes, latched to cold sapphire eyes.

"Why are you obsessing over me not being here? Save that for when I'm really gone. Deal with what you have with me now."  
"Shh, shh. I'm sorry, okay?"

He kissed her on her forehead, before resting his own on hers. After that, nothing was said. He just cradled her throughout the night, as they both fell asleep under the watch of the moon and the stars.


	15. The Crack

_Later that morning 9:34 a.m._

Cuddy was dead asleep against her door in House's car. They were on the road, back to the hospital, to make sure they'd be back on Wilson's time. They were less than five minutes away when finally stopped at a red light. House looked tired. Not, physically, nor mentally. He just looked--stressed. This month had really taken it's toll on him, with everything that had been happening. It certainly wasn't an experience he could go through willingly, but he had to grin and bear it. But that grin never formed. They pulled into the parking lot, and he took his place in his handicap parking spot. He removed his keys and got out, shoving them into his pocket, and slammed his door shut. When he reached her side, he carefully opened the door, making sure to hold her up, before she could fall out, and unbuckled her seat belt. Then he lifted her out, as he had done before, and slammed the door shut with his foot.

As he walked through the lobby, the staff had given him curious stares, and remarks, clearly worried about her.

"Did something happen?"  
"Is she alright?"  
"Where did she go?"

He just walked past them and smiled, making sure to get to the elevators before having to answer anything. As soon as he got in, he closed the doors, and watched the faces, and heard the voices disappear before him. He then shut his eyes in pain, urging to rest her down, and urging to give way for his leg. No surprise, he had no extra morphine with him, so he spent the entire morning in a backfiring pain. To his relief, he finally made it to her floor, and limped towards her room. He looked down at her for a second, examining her cradled position. Her bangs, and strands of hair fell along her face as her head rested against his chest. As peaceful as she was, it still hurt him to know that she was in pain. Once they reached her room, he beckoned a nurse to open the door for him, instead of looking like an idiot, trying to open the door with his foot. As soon as they entered, he released the nurse and went to rest Cuddy on the bed. Gentle and gracefully he set her down onto her sheets and pillow. He moved around and fixed her pillows, and covered her in the blanket, before collapsing on the stray chair once again, clasping his leg in pain. He breathed in deeply for about five minutes, before being disturbed by Wilson's presence. He had slid open the door carefully, trying not to break the peace.

"You guys just get in?"  
"Few minutes ago."  
"Ah."  
"Any particular reason why you're not talking?"  
"We can talk later."  
"Sure."  
"No, now."

Wilson looked slightly angry. House rolled his eyes and bit his lower lip as he rose up, to follow Wilson back to his office. They slid the door closed and began walking to his office. Wilson took forceful strides as House kept up behind. Eventually, he got in front of him, and pushed opened the doors to his office and sat himself in his chair.

"What, the hell do you think you're doing, sneaking her out of the hospital, in the middle of the night to go to a cemetery?!?"  
"Quiet voices."  
"Unbelievable. You know her medical condition. I thought, even you would know not to be reckless for something like this."  
"I brought her back, perfect."  
"She could've easily--"  
"What. What."  
"--Anything."  
"She's FINE."  
"THIS time, yes."  
"Next time, I won't be so reckless."  
"There should be, no, next time. What you're doing, is taking chances, and playing with her life."  
"It was a date Wilson."  
"No! It wasn't! You're trying to rationalize the situation, pretending like none of this is happening! She can't afford that House. If you cared, you would want her to stay in that bed, and rest. This is the time where you need to be, protective of her."

House tried his best to ignore him, so he fidgeted around at his desk, finding something to put him at ease. Wilson continued on with his lecture, accompanied with hand gestures.

"You've reached your breaking point House. I understand that. But you can't just, have all these impulsive decisions without stopping to think. You dragged her out of the hospital, in the middle of the night. God knows what you two did there--and I'm sure that I don't need to know--but I'm sure you did stupid things that were risky. And again, we can't afford that."  
"Of course not."

His voice was brisk, and arrogant, like it usual was. Deep down he was getting angrier with Wilson. He understood, did he not? Why couldn't he have just, dropped the subject? His point was already proven.

"I still don't know what was going through your mind. You're coping with this in--"

BOOM. He let it out. His hand hand formed a fist, ascended into the air, and swung down onto his desk, causing a loud BOOM and a crack. A small crack had been created on impact. It was about two-three inches long. Wilson had jerked in place at the noise and shifted his arms almost in a defending position. House looked away, angled towards the outer office, and he licked his bottom lip as air entered and escaped through his mouth. But oddly enough, he did not yell, nor scream. He spoke in a tense and quiet tone.

"You of all people know exactly how I'm coping with this, and you should know why I'm acting the way I am. Was it reckless, yes, am I going to do it as bad next time, no. Nothing was probably going through my mind except being with her. I know I've reached my breaking point, because I've reached so far past it. Impulsive decisions shouldn't be made. Because they lead to risky actions, and stupid ones. And we can't afford those. Point proven. You're right. Let's move on, shall we?"

He got up from his chair, and limped past Wilson, who rested his fists onto the desk and bowed his head.

"Where are you going."  
"I've got myself a few papers to fill out and sign."

And he threw the door open and left, without another word, while Wilson rubbed his palms over his eyes and over his hair, before meeting at the back of his head in a tight clasp with each other.

* * *

  
_Several hours later 3:02 p.m._

Cuddy turned flat on her back and woke up to the sun shining through her windows. It was a bright day and it had just welcomed her. To her surprise, Wilson was sitting in the corner of the room, half asleep on the chair. He was resting his head on his hand and slowly falling off the armrest. Which he eventually did. Elbow slips, head comes tumbling, wake up call.

"What happened?" He asked sleepily.  
"You, falling asleep. In my room."  
"Oh."

Cuddy just laughed, very entertained by this Wilson. She was mostly entertained, on the other hand a little curious of his presence.

"How long have you been here?"  
"Since House left."  
"He left?"  
"Yeah, few hours ago. I don't know what he's up to though."  
"He didn't say?"  
"He was--kinda pissed at me when he told me."  
"Oh God, what did you say."  
"Nothing, nothing, just uh. Something minor. Nothing we haven't argued about before."  
"Hm. So why are you here?"  
"Waiting--for him to come back. Go figure, when he does, you'll be the first person he'll want to check up on."  
"Always."

He got up from the chair, and walked over to her and pulled up a chair to sit next to her.

"He--really shouldn't have done what he did last night." Wilson confessed.  
"You know?"  
"I know what?"  
"What are you talking about?"  
"What are **you** talking about?"  
"You go first."  
"I meant--the whole, sneaking-you-out-of-the-hospital-in-the-middle-of-the-night-thing."  
"Oh."  
"And you?"  
"I meant--the whole, asking-me-if-I'd-be-happier-if-he-asked-me-to-marry-him-thing."  
"He--what? He asked you to marry him."  
"He asked me if I'd be happier if I married him."

Wilson's mouth was open to speak, but he could not find words to. So his mouth laid open, as his eyes looked from her eyes to around the room in confusion, and surprise.

* * *

  
_In House's office_

House walked into his office, and set down everything he was holding on his desk. There were three things in his hand: Cuddy's file, his mail, and some documents. He pushed everything else aside, and brought the documents in front of him. He began to read them over and signed his initials and signature in several places. As he did so, Cameron walked in.

"Where've you been all day?"  
"Errands."  
"That what you're doing now?"  
"Yep."

She came over to his desk, and leaned over to glance at the papers. As she read, the curious smile from her face faded, and her eyes looked harder down at them. She soon had red so far that midway of signing, she had snatched it off the table, ending his signature.

"Thanks."

After she had read a few lines here and there, she dropped her hand down, taking the papers away from her face to look at him, who was looking up at her awkwardly.

"What's this?"  
"You've already read it, and you expect me to explain it to you? That blonde hair of yours is really starting to make you stupid huh? At least you have an excuse."  
"Yeah, of course it has--you're going to adopt her?"


	16. Father to Daughter

"I'm certainly not leaving her with Nora. She may be her grandmother, but she can be a real bitch sometimes." he finally replied to Cameron.  
"Seriously. You. House. Are going to adopt a child."  
"Well, I like this one."  
"Why not until--later?"  
"Well--she needs a father. She's Cuddy's kid. And she shouldn't--scratch that--no kid, should ever experience not having a father. Especially not her."  
"That's sweet House."

She rested her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

"Alright, alright. Don't change this into--"  
"Yeah. I get it. But is--Cuddy okay with this?"  
"Haven't asked her yet."  
"Of course you haven't."  
"She'll be fine with it."  
"You never know."  
"Don't spoil my mood."  
"I mean, I'm sure she'd be perfectly fine with it but. I don't think she'd believe that--you would go step up and take that kind of responsibility. Let alone, allow you to."  
"Well her ruling on that is fading."  
"Technically, no. She has to do some signing on these right?"  
"Damn."  
"Exactly. So, ask her now. Go. Go!"

He rolled his eyes at her, snatched the papers back, and got up to walk out, heading for Cuddy's room. Cameron just smiled, folded her arms, and walked out after.

* * *

  
_Couple minutes and seconds later_

House limped up to her door, and saw her and Wilson conversing inside. He threw on his curious face as he slid the door open, slowly, trying not to interrupt. When he walked in, both of their heads turned to face him, and he raised his eyebrows.

"What's up." He dared to ask.  
"You asked her to marry you?"  
"Oh my God." He looked up to the ceiling in aggravation.  
"You asked her, to marry you?"  
"I did not say that." She defended.  
"You may as well have." Wilson replied.  
"She's dying, that's like--the second best thing I could think of doing."  
"What's the first?"  
"That would be this."

He walked toward the side Wilson had been on, and he gave her all the adoption papers. Her eyes skimmed through the lines and her expressions shifted. She looked back up at him sincerely, and surprised.

"What the hell are these?"  
"Okay--Cameron had an excuse..Do brunettes? Or do they have to be called stupid?"

Wilson took one of the papers from Cuddy's grasp and began to read. His eyes skimmed a little faster, and his expressions shifted even faster.

"You're going to adopt Rachel? You're legally making yourself her father?"  
"Rachel Helena Cuddy House. Damn. That's a long name."  
"Her middle name's Helena?" Like, Hel-eh-nuh, or Hel-ee-nuh?"  
"Hel-eh-nuh." Cuddy spoke.

They all just looked at each other, from one person to the other. Then, Wilson kind of shifted his chair back a little and he sat back, and let the two discuss.

"You gonna sign them or what, I got to get them back to my lawyer."  
"Are you sure about this House?"  
"Why wouldn't I be?"  
"Several reasons."  
"Care to venture one?"  
"You--you feel like, you need to be taking--responsibility for certain things. And from my perspective, it seems more by force, than voluntary."  
"Don't start with that crap. You know how much I love that kid."  
"I know you love her House. But, is that really enough for you to take care of her? Do you know how much responsibility that is?"  
"She needs me Cuddy. A father. Something, that I didn't have. Someone, to have you sat on their lap. Someone, who would sneak you five bucks as a bribe. Someone, who would give you advice about dating, and sex. Someone you could look up to as a hero. That kid, has no one once you're gone. I'm not gonna do that to her."

Cuddy kind of gazed at him for several seconds. Wilson just looked back and forth at them, trying to decipher this moment. He got tired of waiting for them to say something, so he stood up, took Cuddy's hand, put a pen in her hand, and tried making her sign the papers. After he did so, Cuddy just looked at him.

"So are you gonna sign?"

She slapped his hand, and bit her bottom lip and began to sign her signature and initials in all necessary places. After, she handed them to House. He gave a curt nod and grabbed his cane from her bed, where he had left it the night prior, and began to walk out.

"Thank you, House."

He stopped dead in his tracks for a couple seconds, before turning around and giving her at least, half a smile.

"Don't."

And he walked out, leaving the two behind.

"Okay. Now that that is taken care of, clarify this, "not proposal" thing."  
"It's all in good intentions Wilson."  
"Oh I'm sure. But WHERE DID IT COME FROM."  
"He's concerned about my happiness. Thought maybe if we got married, things would be easier--as things went along."  
"But House doesn't marry. He doesn't believe in marriage."  
"No. Even though he didn't believe in it, he still would've sacrificed that factor if doing so would make me happy. But it wouldn't have anyway."  
"But, you DO marry."  
"No Wilson, YOU marry. I have three legit witnesses to prove that."  
"Yes, yes, we all know, divorced three times. But, I thought you wanted to get married?"  
"Wilson, you know just as well as I do about House's intentions with relationships. Do you honestly think, that I would get myself involved with him, if we both had different turn outs of our relationship?"  
"Well. No."  
"My point exactly."  
"But like you said, his intentions would change for the person he truly loved. He would sacrifice his beliefs."  
"Just because he would want to, or would try to, doesn't mean I would let him. We both know House. Inside and out. We anticipate things like this. I know that he would sacrifice. Which is exactly why, from the start, I knew that if we were serious, the farthest we would ever go would be--living together."  
"Smart."  
"No, just knowing House."  
"So, knowing House, what do you think he's gonna do--later on?"  
"Knowing him. He'll be angry and depressed for a while. The pain will really hit him. He'll--look for something. Something to turn to. Drugs. Alcohol. Smoking. Or maybe all three. But he will eventually move on."  
"Do you think that's accurate?"  
"I'm hoping that's relatively close."  
"What else is there?"  
"I don't know. I'm just praying that things won't get worse."  
"But they always do."  
"_Al-ways._"


	17. Drug Trials

It had been a month since House, legally, became Rachel's father. He was spending more time with her now, and taking care of her. He brought her to the hospital nearly every day, and he always made sure that Cuddy spent some time with her. It was getting harder and harder for Cuddy to get out of bed, so House always made sure things were always taken care of.

Since Cuddy's admittance, she had been kept in her hospital bed all the time. No one would allow her back into her office unless absolutely necessary. Everyone seemed very protective towards her. Not more as a boss anymore however.

House was sitting in his usual spot by Cuddy, holding her hands, and asleep on her stomach. This was a familiar place for them as the days passed by. But as they were both resting, something sounded off his House's pocket. He lifted his head up, took a free hand and reached into his jacket pocket. He grabbed his phone and saw that he had one voice mail. He got up from the chair, quietly, not disturbing Cuddy, and called it. He listened to the message.

"_**You have one new message. The following message has not been heard. Message received Today, July 1st at 5:55 p.m. :**  
Hello Dr. House. This is Dr. Jakob Yvenstier calling to ask you if you were still interested in coming here for the current drug trials we have going on. All the supervising spots have already been filled, but we would still like you to join us in this event. Again, this is going on until the 6th of August so, if you can, please come and partake in this changing event.  
**End of message. To repeat this message, press one, to save it in your inbox, press nine, to delete, press seven, to hear more options, press four--**_"

He pressed end, and shoved it back into his pocket. He stood still for a moment, deciding on whether or not he should go. It might be a good choice to go, and then again--maybe not. After a minute of standing stationary, he turned around to see a waking Cuddy.

"What was that?"  
"Voice mail."  
"From?"  
"Jakob Yvenstier."  
"He called you?"  
"Yeah."  
"About the drug trials? Again?"  
"Yeah."

He walked back over and sat back in the chair.

"Go."  
"No."  
"Seriously."  
"No."  
"House."  
"I'll be an hour away."  
"Point being?"  
"What if something goes wrong?"  
"I'll be fine."  
"Well--yeah, you say that now. You won't be saying that if you go in cardiac arrest, or--"  
"I'll be fine. I have my staff standing by."  
"Well, I'll be there for four days."  
"And?"  
"Do you want me here for the fourth of July?"  
"Of course."  
"Then I'm not going."  
"There are more important things House."  
"Than you?"  
"Go. It'll do you some good. And we both know, you need some time out of this place."  
"Fine. I'll leave in the morning."  
"Thank you."  
"But--"  
"Stop."  
"If something--"  
"No. Stop."  
"Hey guys."

Cameron had appeared at the door. Her arms were folded and she was leaning against the glass as Cuddy and House had turn their heads to face her.

"Where'd you put my kid?"  
"Differential. She's with Thirteen."  
"You left her, with the lesbian?"  
"She's Bi."  
"And the definition of Bisexual is? She goes both ways. So, she's considered a lesbian."

Cuddy and Cameron rolled their eyes at him as they continue talking.

"She may be _half_ a lesbian," she glanced at House, "But she is actually really good with kids."  
"I'm sure." House retorted.  
"They have a patient, in ICU right now."  
"Admittance?" Cuddy asked.  
"Last night."  
"Why didn't you guys call me?"  
"You were asleep. In here. With Cuddy."  
"Keep going."  
"Well, none of us wanted to come wake you up, cause whoever would, you would end up bitching at. So, we just left you out. Or they, I should say."  
"Fine. I'm leaving anyway."  
"Where to?"  
"Drug trials."  
"Oh you're going?"  
"How'd you--?"  
"Oh, I still read your mail. I know you never check it so I go through, see if there's anything important, and then delete all the unnecessary ones."  
"Really."  
"No. I got one too. Including Chase, Foreman, Taub and Thirteen. I guess it's because technically we are all House 'lite'? I don't know. Maybe, they wanted a substitute if you couldn't make it."  
"You wanna take my place?"  
"I can't. I already told them neither me or Chase were going."  
"Foreman going?"  
"Nope. Everyone's staying for the celebration this Friday. And anyone else who got the invite, already went."  
"Damn. I should go pack then."  
"Now?" Cuddy asked.  
"Might as well. I'll be back."

He slowly got up from his chair, and bent down to give her a kiss on the head. Then he limped out of there leaving them two behind.

"He really needs this doesn't he?"  
"Yeah. That's what I've been thinking."  
"You need anything?"  
"Can you get Rachel for me?"  
"Sure, of course. I'll be back."

And she left to go fetch Rachel, as Cuddy sat behind and thought of nothing but him.

* * *

  
_The following morning 9:37 a.m._

House and Cuddy were both asleep in her bed. He was high up on her pillow, with his elbow holding his head up, as Cuddy slept on her pillow, with her entire body nuzzled into him. Her hair fell upon her face as her entire head was burrowed beneath his chin and on his neck.

House seemed asleep, or at least half asleep. With his free hand, it was rested on her head, and his thumb would move slowly over her hair. His face was also tensed. As if angry, or stressed, or just plain uncomfortable.

House didn't appear to be in a pair of sleeping clothes however. His jacket, along with all his luggage, were cast aside in the corner of the room, and he rested in his sky blue shirt, and black corduroys. His position was already uncomfortable enough, in which, the clothes made it all the more worse. But it was worth it, to him, seeing as where he was exactly. With her.

He had been there since he returned the night before, and slept through the rest of that night, and through the morning up until nearly 10:00. Cameron had been passing by, and saw that he was still here. So she quietly went in, and walked over to his side, and began to shake his shoulder a bit.

"House. House. House."

He lifted his head off his hand and turned to see Cameron.

"You need to get going."  
"Uh--what time is it?"  
"Nearly ten."  
"Damn."

He tried opening his eyes to get the sleep out of him. Then he looked down at Cuddy. Her breath was hot as it passed through his shirt.

"Need any help?"  
"No I got this one."

Cameron gave a nod, and she began to walk back out, but she stopped at the door for a moment and held onto it as she watched him. He made his way carefully off the bed, trying his best not to wake her. He favored his leg as he prepared his things, and slipped on his jacket. As he fixed his collar, he watched Cuddy on the bed. His eyes looked a little guilt-ridden, and sincere. Then he saw Cameron at the door.

"What?"  
"You guys are--too sweet."

He picked up his duffle bag and grabbed his cane and glared at Cameron as he walked past her and out the door.

"Are not."

She laughed at him and closed the door to Cuddy's room, going her separate way. House then headed for the elevator, and ran into Wilson inside.

"Where are you going?"  
"Well I had to see you off."  
"Don't you always?"

Then they closed the doors and descended down to the ground floor.

"You're leaving a little late."  
"Fell asleep."  
"Cuddy?"  
"Yeah."  
"You seem all the more devoted to her. Why is that?"  
"Unlike you, I like to keep the women I love on a pedestal. You lure them in, and then later on throw them aside for them to be maggot food."  
"Harsh way to put it, but point taken. May I remind you of Stacy?"

The doors opened and they walked across the lobby.

"That was different." He retorted casually.  
"What's so different?"  
"Everything."

They opened the entrance doors and stopped when they reached outside.

"Like, the fact that she's dying?"  
"No."  
"Yes."  
"The fact that she's dying is irrelevant to why I care about her."  
"Sure."  
"Look. Being devoted, the dying part, yeah its affected that. But I do not, love her more or less because of it."  
"All I needed to hear House, all I needed to hear."  
"Got my pager?"  
"The moment anything happens."

House gave a curt nod and turned away. Wilson put on a reassuring face.

"I'll take care of her House."

He looked back at him and gave half a smile, before walking off to his car, driving off to New York.


	18. Pain,

_"Pain. A feeling we all encounter at some point in our lives, whether we like it or not. We benefit from it, and we have our disadvantages.  
Pain, can be a teacher. It can be full of discipline.  
Pain, can be a friend. When you think, you have no one to turn to.  
Pain, can oddly be a comfort. To those who truly need it.  
Pain, can be many things. But the most common form that I have seen it as, is a strengthener. As strange as it seems, I have seen it, strengthen people, for the better."_  
-James Evan Wilson

* * *

  
House was on the freeway, twenty, maybe thirty minutes away. With one hand at the twelve o'clock position, he changed from lane to lane, thinking about only one thing--or person, you could say.  
He looked like he was thinking as he glared out onto the road. He seemed, focused. What that was, was still in question.  
Eventually, House pulled up into a Marriott parking lot, and parked his car in the first handicap space he could find. He got out, being wary of his leg, and went for his duffel bag in the trunk, then entered.  
As soon as he walked in, the woman running the front desk immediately started talking to him.

"Dr. House?"  
"Obviously."  
"I have your room key all set for you."  
"Is this free?"  
"No, this is courtesy of Dr. Yvenstier. He's paid for all your expenses. You're in room 246."

He limped awkwardly up to the desk to receive his card, and nodded at her and began to walk out of the lobby. He passed through the halls and met an elevator. He went directly in, and went for the second floor. Within minutes he found his room, and entered, then collapsed on his bed to rest after tossing his duffel bag onto the couch. Reaching into his pocket, he snatched out his phone to check the time. Ten passed eleven. Then he saw a missed alert and then checked to see what it was.

_**Cuddy:**_

U there yet? Call me  
as soon as you get  
there and in your  
room.

10:57pm Wed, July 2

He snickered at her concern, and called her up. It rang a few times before she answered.

_"Hello?"_  
"You really found it necessary to send that?"  
_"It's me House, of course it is."  
"Why do you still call him House? In all my years knowing you two, you've never called him by Greg."  
"Neither have you."_  
"Whose that in the background?"  
_"Wilson."  
"You've called, everyone by their first name at least ONCE. But, not House. Never House."  
"Shut up Wilson."_  
"You don't have to call me Greg. I find it--unnecessary."  
_"And you'd hate it anyway."  
"You've called Cameron, Allison, Chase, Robert, Foreman, Eric, Thirteen, Remy, you even called her by her real last name Hadley. I'm not sure about Taub though. Have you?"  
"Shut up Wilson."_  
"See the piece of work you get stuck with when I'm gone?"  
_"Yeah. For once, I've learned to appreciate your narcissism and sarcasm."_  
"Ha."  
_"So what you up to over there?"_  
"I am at a club, and I have the sexiest stripper alive, on my lap."  
_"I find that hard to believe."_  
"Because you trust me?"  
_"No, because first of all, the sexiest stripper alive is me, and I haven't put on a show for you yet."_  
"Well--technically you have. In a fantasy-hallucination scenario."  
_"When?"_  
"Remember the accident? How I busted up my head?"  
_"Yeah..."_  
"Remember when--let's make this easier, remember when I threw up on your shoes?"  
_"After your bath? Yeah."_  
"In the bath, we had a differential--while you stripped."  
_"But?"  
"But what? What else is there more to that? Or are you talking about your ass?"  
"Are you drunk or something?"_  
"No, I slipped him some meds."  
_"Oh."_  
"But, right when that glorious moment came for the garments to come off--you ended it."  
_"Figures. Dating or not, if we needed to solve a differential, we would solve that differential."  
"How did you know there was a 'but'?"  
"There's always a catch."_  
"Yeah. Well, I'm going to go head down to MTH. You go deal with speed boy over there, and I'll call you later."  
_"Right. Talk to you later. Love you."_  
"Love you too."

He hung up, and smiled, but before heading down to MTH, he decided to take a walk through the city.

* * *

  
_Fifteen minutes later 11:35 a.m._

House limped through the streets of Manhattan, looking through all the windows and corner shops around. It was a perfect day to be walking. The sun was perfectly over the city, basking in its glory as all the citizens walked through the streets.

Despite all their presence, House, felt so alone.

He took long strides in the center of the crowd that was slowly swallowing him. He had on his usual angered face, squinted eyes, and a steady grin. But he was hidden beneath the crowd, as if he was hiding. But he eventually broke from the crowd, and shifted to the side, where he found his attention elsewhere--through a window. He quickly past through a group of people, and made his way inside.

* * *

  
_Hours later at Manhattan Teaching Hospital 4:47 p.m._

House was sitting in the corner, away from everyone else in the drug trials. Meeting with Dr. Yvenstier had already been done, and now he had no pleasure in actually participating in the drug trials. And one person to notice this came over to him, and tried some conversation.

"Dr. House?"  
"Diagnostician at your service." he said sarcastically.  
"Hi, I'm Dr. Jillian Kingston?"  
"Doesn't ring a bell."  
"It shouldn't. To you at least."  
"Nice to meet you." After her remark, he became interested.  
"I'm a friend of Dr. Yvenstier. I'm a psychologist."  
"That benefits me how?"  
"You need help don't you?"  
"How do you know I need help."  
"Doesn't _everyone_ need a little help with themselves?" Even doctors like you?"  
"Granted. What's my problem then, cause well--I don't have a clue."  
"By the way you're sitting and your stare alone tell me already that you're troubled."  
"Personal problems."  
"There are never just personal problems between a psychologist and their patients."  
"Okay then, I'm uncomfortable with the size of my penis. I find it way too large for my liking."  
"Point taken. This seems like a serious problem however."  
"The penis thing or my actual problem?"  
"I can go at this all day House. You might as well tell me what your problem is."  
"Why."  
"Because."  
"Seriously, why do I need to tell you? I'm sure I didn't ask for help. I'm sure I didn't confront you with my problem, whether or not I have one, and why have you come over to me in the first place?"  
"Why, you got a girlfriend? Doubt it, but I'm taking a shot here."  
"Yeah."  
"She mean a lot to you?"  
"Certainly."  
"How sick is she?"  
"Healthier than ever."  
"Cancer?"  
"Lung."  
"Terminal? See, just by you responding stupid answers, I can figure you out. Your statement, asking me why I came over, shows that you're protecting yourself and you get defensive. Saying she meant a lot to you means the problem was with her, and exactly how you said it, defines that she's sick. You defending that she's healthier than ever, proves that you're saying the opposite meaning, she's sicker than ever and the fact that you said ever, reflects life, saying that she's sick and her life is on the line. So? Cancer, and its terminal and you filled in all the other blanks."  
"Well done Kingston."  
"I try my best."  
"I left her behind to go to this damn thing."  
"If you didn't want to go, and you went anyways--she made you?"  
"Yeah."  
"Can't stop worrying or thinking about her?"  
"Nope."  
"I see. Well, is she in good care?"  
"I hope so. Otherwise she's damned for sure."  
"Then why worry? You not being there to save her from death scares you? Do you think that if you're not there, something will automatically happen to her?"  
"Yes."  
"Why do you believe so?"

His pager went off. He looked down, and then looked back up at Kingston.

"Well, to answer all three of your questions: One, I worry, because I love her. I am capable of that emotion by the way. Two, it does scare me that I'm not there to save her. Because, not only can I not save her, but goodbyes are left unsaid. And three, I'm always right, cause that page told me she's having a heart attack so, give my regards to Yvenstier and my apologies for my early departure. Good talking Kingston. Keep in touch."

She looked at him in shock as he got up, and began limping out of there over to his car. He revved up the engine and headed straight for the freeway, without returning to the hotel and without even a glance back.


	19. Anger, Tears,

_"Tears, are a kind of blood that we shed, when a part of our soul has been damaged."_  
-James Evan Wilson

* * *

  
House drove furiously through the freeway. Averaging himself going nearly ninety miles per hour on the freeway in his Ford Taurus, in a split second, anything could happen. But he didn't care.

He had his phone pressed tight up against his ear, as he maneuvered the car with his hand on the twelve o'clock position, shifting recklessly from lane to lane, waiting for a voice on the other line. He was fifteen minutes away from PPTH, before he could get off exit nine, and take the ramp up.

After the first two calls, Wilson picked up.

_"House--"_  
"What the **hell** happened over there?"  
_"Listen--look--"_  
"Don't explain to me anything else, except for why she nearly went into cardiac arrest."

His voice was sharp, and angry. And even, breaking.

_"Her parents."_  
"What? Why the hell are they there? Why do they decide _now_ to visit their goddamn daughter at the hospital?"  
_"They thought it would hurt too much to see her. And now they know why it would've been easier to visit early, because they decided to tell her that they're getting a divorce."_  
"Shit! That's the perfect thing to tell your kid before you die. 'Honey we love you, you're going to be fine, by the way I'm leaving your mother."  
_"How do you know it's the father?"_  
"Because it's _al-ways_, father. Son of a--"  
_"House? What's going on?"_  
"Stupid ass on the road."  
_"Why are you coming back here?"_  
"I don't know about you Wilson, but when people I love have near death experiences, I like to rectify that, and come down and visit."  
_"She's perfectly fine. She's in stable condition."_  
"Are her parents still there?"  
_"--yeah."_  
"Shit. Well, it's already too late. I'm about to make a left turn at Lincoln highway."  
_"She's gonna be pissed at you when you get back here."_  
"Most likely yeah. You never know--son of a bitch--!"  
Swerve. Tires screech. Crash.  
_"House! House? House?_  
As House had furiously made his way down Promenade Boulevard, ready to make a left turn, a semi truck ran his red light, leaving House no choice to swerve out of the way, but aiming for the Thad Rock Mountain stone sign instead.

* * *

  
_Couple hours later 8:22 p.m._

House had been transferred from Princeton General over to PPTH, within minutes. With a concussion, broken left arm, two broken ribs, and some internal bleeding, he of course, made it out okay.

Wilson had put House on Cuddy's floor, so it would be easier to watch both. Now that they were both in fragile conditions, he needed to keep a steady watch on both of them.

House didn't come conscious for a couple hours after the accident. He woke up to Cuddy sitting beside him in her hospital gown. When he opened his eyes, she smiled at him, and caressed his face, tracing her thumb over the cuts.

"This--is what you get for driving twenty miles over the speed limit."

Her voice cracked, but she managed to speak calmly to him. He tried speaking, but it came out weak and hoarse.

"Hey. He nearly hit me okay? Dead goner if he had hit me.  
"Well, then you shouldn't have been rushing your ass over here, after we told you not to."  
"Natural--reflex when someone pages me, 'Cuddy - 911'."  
"Of course."

Then and there, Wilson came in with an aggravated look. He was still in his coat, assuming he'd be keeping watch overnight.

"You idiot."  
"So I've been told."  
"Yeah. Ninety miles? It wasn't even the free way."  
"He ran the red light! And they don't know that."  
"Shut up. Now you got a broken arm, two broken ribs. Live with that."  
"I think I can managed."  
"God."

Wilson collapsed on a seat in the corner and rubbed his face.

"Your parents still here?"  
"--at the hotel."  
"Jesus, out of all the times to visit, they pick NOW?"  
"Can we not talk about that."  
"Hm. Come here."

He urged her over and sat on the bed with him. He brought his good right arm over, and hugged her.

"Parents can be a bitch. I know. Been there, way too many times."  
"I just--can't see them, or at least my dad, leaving her."  
"I know."

She hung her face as tears began to fall. Wilson just looked at House as they exchanged looks.

"I'm going to go guys. I'll be back later tonight."  
"Night Wilson," they said simultaneously.

Now that they were alone again, House would talk to her about what happened.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." He finally said.  
"Don't. Please. Don't--start this--again."

He looked away. Her head was still bowed as she sat on his bed.

"Then I'm taking you back to your room."  
"No. I'm staying."  
"Then talk to me. You can't keep avoiding this Cuddy."  
"Just--please, House--"  
"I thought you said you accepted this. You accepted that you were dying. Now you can't even talk about it."  
"It's not a subject that I'd like to casually talk about House. Especially out of all people, with you!"

She got up from the bed and began to pace around. She wiped her face a little as he just lied in bed.

"You keep bringing it up in, every conversation we have! I just want to be able to have a conversation with you that doesn't revolve around me dying!"

He ripped off all his chords and got out of the bed.

"I'm sorry, okay! I can't help it that you're dying. I'm sorry that I can't help not accept the fact, that I'm losing you. I'm sorry that I spend every goddamn moment, worrying whether or not you're still alive!"  
"House. Stop--get back in bed--"  
"No. We're gonna talk, I'm going to your level. You're worse than I am, so why do I have to stay in the bed?"  
"I can't do this."  
"What!"  
"Listen to you bitch about the same thing every time! House--I know I'm dying. I told you I've accepted that. But that doesn't mean I want to bring it up in every conversation that I have with people! I mean, I need a little normalcy for gods sakes!"  
"Normalcy? You think you can be diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, and expect everything else to be _normal_? Please, enlighten me on this."  
"I didn't want this to change anything."  
"You didn't _want_ it to. But you have no choice Cuddy. It did. You can't help that."  
"Yes, I know, but you, blowing it way past proportion, is what has made this situation all the worse."  
"How, could I ever, be blowing this way past proportion?"  
"You nearly killed yourself at an intersection, going ninety goddamn miles per hour, because Wilson paged you that I was having a heart attack."  
"I'm sorry, that I worry about you okay? Next time you have a heart attack, I'll be sure to check in after the funeral."  
"That's not worry House. That is--"  
"What!"  
"I don't know! But it's certainly not right."  
"How can caring about you, to MY extent, not be right?"  
"You're being--paranoid!"  
"I think I HAVE to be, seeing as you could die at any god given moment, and for me to not be there, I might as well kill myself."  
"God, you're such an ass.."  
"I've been worse, trust me."  
"Ugh."

They were on complete opposite sides of the room. Cuddy stifled her anger, and her tears.

"So what? Now you're not talking?"  
"I'm leaving."  
"Stop!"  
"I don't want to hear you bitch anymore House! Do you know how tired of I am of this?"  
"Yes!"  
"No, not about me. Us! You're constantly bitching about everything. I am so tired of seeing you hurting, because whenever we do something it's, 'oh, we've only done this once, and it may be the only time we can'. Every time I look at you, you have this look locked on me. I hate it! And it kills me. I feel like I've--constricted your life, let alone you're well being, because of it. I used to get hurt when I saw you in pain. And now, you're hurting now that I am. And that, is killing me faster than anything else."  
"I'm paranoid because it scares me. For the past twenty years that you've been in my life, I've known you, and seen you as Lisa Cuddy, good friend from college, great boss. Even if, we were together, I would still act this way. Because--"  
"You can't control it, and it drives you insane?"

He took a swing at the wall, resonating a loud bang. She stood with nothing to say. He looked at her for a second.

"I feel like I've already lost you. The time that I've had with you hasn't been enough. After you're gone, the only thing I have left is--pain. Even more so than before. You--add more to the load. I'm not scared of that. But I'm terrified of losing you. Because I know it will. And I can't stop, or change that. So, it makes me angry--and whatever the hell else I feel most of the time."

He stopped talking for a while. Let it process through her, before ending the argument officially.

"Overall?"

She looked at him. He continued.

"Watching someone you love, slowly release from your grip--it's a painful thing. But it hurts more--to know that you didn't see it coming, and you were obscured from the truth, just like everyone else. And it slowly kills you, every day, knowing that it could possibly be your fault that their gone."

She turned away and covered her face and finally let go. She cried bitterly at the door, prepared to leave. House, squinted his eyes, and clenched his teeth, then walked over to her and pulled her in a one arm embrace. She buried her face into his chest so that her sobs would be silenced. He sat on the floor with her as she continued. You couldn't hear the sobs that retreated from her mouth, but you could feel it, and you could see it well. He ran his hands down her hair, and rested his chin on top.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

They sat there for a few hours, and she eventually fell asleep. So, he took his arm off his sling, and carried her to her room. Wilson was already in the room when he entered.

"Jesus House, put her down!"

He had whispered at him seeing that she was sleeping. Though it was quiet, it was a nagging tone.

"For Gods sakes your arm is broken! If you carried her all the way here, that will have definitely slowed your recovery on that."  
"This damn thing, is not pain Wilson. Trust me on that."


	20. And Life

**Author's note: This is a very lengthy chapter. Divided into three separate parts--read at your own risk. **

**[ Song(s): Angel by Sarah Mclachlan ]  
**

* * *

_"Our death is approaching, at the immediate moment of birth, and with that thought alone, we grieve along this Earth. But in this way, do we waste our time, no need for sorrow still, for it deadens our well being, our livelihood, these both does it kill. So life must be lived with purpose, but with meaning and with love, with everything that you have received, from the mighty God above. And with the blessings and trials, heed child, you must overcome, do not ever compare thy life with some. Your restless nights, ache in bed, go through the pain, withstand the dread. For in this life, we're fighting for meaning, purpose, and reason, need we end it with a sigh, for when death's sword finally strikes us, we take our bow, and goodbye."_  
-James Evan Wilson

* * *

**Part One: The Celebration**

_July fourth 12:37 p.m._

A few days had passed, and soon enough, it was the fourth of July. House had been discharged today, and was able to go back to work. He had to wear a cast and slang, along with bandages around his abdomen. Lucky for him, they had no patient today. So they all had the day to celebrate.  
House, Cuddy and Wilson, were all in her room, talking about the events that were to take place that day. They all had smiles that managed to be sustained for quite a while.

"She allowed to come down and watch boss?" House asked Wilson.  
He gave nod and smiled.  
"It would be cruel to keep her inside on a day like this."  
"Well thank you Wilson." Cuddy uttered with slight gratitude.  
"But stay close to the hospital. I don't want you being to far out into the fields."  
"We don't want to be under the fireworks, Wilson. Take a breather, we'll be on a bench by the pathway."  
"You would say the same thing House. Not so much say but, do."  
"Yeah, yeah. Look who it is, princess Chase, lady and gentlemen."  
Cameron walked through the doors and greeted them all.  
"Happy July fourth."  
"Back at you."  
"You too, Cameron."  
"You know."  
"You guys staying tonight? It starts at six. Chase and I are gonna be handing out cookies and drinks down there after we set up."  
"You guys putting banners up?" Wilson asked.  
"Just decorations around the grounds. Everything red, white and blue."  
"I wish I could help. I'm stuck in this bed until later." Cuddy uttered with annoyance.  
"Well, I'm sorry. Wilson, care to help out? I'm recruting people. Ha."  
"Sure. We'll leave you two be."  
Wilson and Cameron walked out, laughing.  
"I hate this bed." She finally said.  
"Who wouldn't?"  
"Can we go to your office?"  
"Yeah. Come on."  
He removed her chords and was prepared to carry her, but she forced her bare feet onto the cold floor instead.  
"You sure?"  
"I haven't walked in two months. And I want to go play with our kid."  
"If you collapse, it's not my fault."  
She gave a small smack on his head, and they began to walk to his office. She was walking perfectly fine, but he was cautious, kept his arm at the ready, and walked close. Soon enough after a trip in the elevator, they made it to the office, where Thirteen and Foreman were playing with Rachel in the outer area.  
"Teaching my kid how to carjack a car, Foreman? Or is Thirteen convincing her that she can play for both teams?"  
"Yeah, next week I'm going to bring her to get a tattoo." He retorted.  
"What are you two doing here anyway?" Thirteen asked.  
"Is it wrong to want to see our kid?"  
"No. But we could've brought her--"  
"Yeah. You could've." Cuddy said.  
Thirteen pursed her lips, and gave a nod. They all knew that Cuddy wanted normalcy, based off of all her actions that she took and the things she discussed and how exactly she discussed them. Even when she fought with House, she made it clear to what she wanted during all of this. To feel normal, like the whole world hasn't ended.  
"You guys going to the show?" House asked.  
"Were doing the show." Foreman replied.  
"Yeah, the other guys bailed so, I stepped in, but Foreman wanted to join too."  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the copy cat thing."  
"We're alternating watching her. Chase and Cameron help out, while me and him watch, and then switch."  
"I sense that Taub is with his wife?"  
"Yeah." They both said.  
"Well, we can take Rachel off your hands. We're here now anyway, so you guys can go help out downstairs."  
"Seriously. Go. Now."  
Foreman and Thirteen scooted out of there like he had sent them off to do tests or treatment. But they weren't as in a rush as they normally would. Before leaving, Thirteen had handed Rachel carefully to Cuddy. She walked around the room cradling her daughter in her arms. House stood by, leaning against the door, watching.  
"It's been a while."  
"Too long."  
Cuddy's eyes were soon enough filled with tears. She gave sniffles as they ran down her face. House knew why. But he refused to say anything of it. Knowing himself, he could only make the situation, all the more worse.  
"Sit down, Cuddy."  
"I've been sitting and resting for days. It wouldn't kill me to stand for a while."  
"You say that now."  
"I'm fine, House."  
She sniffled again, and she turned around to face him. He had a locked look on her. It wasn't angry, sad, or any of the negative things before. It wasn't even, happy, It was a barely satisfied, and interested look.  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
"--You've--got a weird stare on me."  
"Admiring the view."  
"If you're referring to my ass--"  
He pursed his lips and shook no. He barely blinked, as she bit her lip at him and sniffled more, then turning back to look into her daughter's eyes. She kissed her forehead, before resting her chin slightly on it, and walked back to him.  
"You wanna hold her?"  
"I've got all the time to."  
Cuddy closed her eyes, before taking a seat at the table. Rachel began to fall asleep.  
"That kid's got your eyes." He admitted.  
"House--that is so impossible, it's not even funny."  
"Who said it was supposed to be funny?"  
She looked up at him, and he began to walk towards his inner office.  
"Biologically, yes, that's impossible. Yet, I see you when I look at her."  
He went in, and took a seat in his chair and kicked back. They exchanged looks through the windows; Both separated by each room.

* * *

_Hours later - 7:20 p.m._

House and Cuddy were on a bench watching the fireworks take place. Most of the staff had either gone home, or stayed and brought their families, or helped out with it all. There were only few staff on duty at the moment--it wasn't one of their busiest days.  
Rachel was being cared for by Chase and Cameron, who were still handing out cookies to all the children of the doctors and nurses, and even to some of the staff. Everyone was having a good time, watching the colors of light explode in the air. For the first time in a long while, House and Cuddy were enjoying themselves.  
"Happy July fourth."  
"You too."  
"Look at Rach."  
House urged Cuddy to look over at Chase and Cameron. Rachel's face had been covered in icing--red, white and blue--covered with sprinkles. Cameron and Chase turned around, saw her and began laugh hysterically as they wiped down her face. They took a glance at them on the bench and smiled.  
"Better keep a better watch on our kid Chase! Or one day you'll wake up feeling a little chilly on your head!" He called out sarcastically.  
Chase just rolled his eyes, laughing at Rachel as Cameron cleaned her up. The fireworks continued booming and lighting the sky. That's when Cuddy's grip loosened on his hand.  
"My chest hurts. I think I'm--"  
She turned limp, and fell onto his lap on the bench. He ripped off his slang, and carried her inside the hospital. Dropping her off in the ER, he whipped out his phone, and called Wilson.  
_"Hey, where are you guys??"_  
"We got our own explosion going on over here."  
_"Wh--?"_  
"Traumatic Myocardial Rupture. Get in here."

* * *

**Part Two: Final Diagnosis**

_Outside the ICU 7:51 p.m._

"She's suffered a traumatic myocardial rupture."

Cuddy's parents, Steven and Nora, had rushed to the hospital after Wilson had stabilized Cuddy. After doing so, he had met up with them outside of the ICU. Letting them know what was happening.  
"We managed to stabilize her, but she's begun cardiac tamponade. We've confirmed with an cardiac echo. For the next couple hours or so, she will slowly lose consciousness and oxygen as her heart will fill up with the fluid. Once the fluid fills the entire sac, her heart, will stop beating."  
"And you can't do anything?" Steven had asked desperately.  
"We could. But it would be fairly difficult. Her tumor, makes it difficult to drain the fluid in her heart. Just injecting the syringe could compromise things. Surgery is another option, but the risks--"  
"What caused this?" Nora uttered on the verge of tears.  
"It was her heart attack. Myocardial ruptures can occur easily after a heart attack, but what made her chances greater, was the cancer. Cancer has been confirmed as another cause of myocardial ruptures."  
Suddenly, House walked out of the ICU and stepped beside Wilson as he continued talking to Steven and Nora. He was very angry, and he kept his eyes averted, from all of them.  
"No. No. This cannot be happening. You must be able to do something. Anything. This--isn't how it's supposed to go James. Parents, leave their kids first, not the other way around."  
"Nora, even without this, she would still be dying."  
"But not as fast."  
House had stepped in, as Wilson grabbed his cane from the bench and handed it to him.  
"Next time you plan to give your daughter a heart attack, make sure she's pretty healthy first."

He glared his eyes at both of them, before limping back to his office, leaving the two with their mouths opened, and Wilson with a bowed head.

* * *

_House's office - Minutes later_

House was tensed in his office, in complete darkness, with the exception of the lights streaming down the halls outside. He stared blankly at his floor while twirling his cane, around and around, as if waiting for something. Suddenly Wilson walked in.

"What the hell was that."  
"The most rational I could act towards them."  
"I think I'm afraid to ask what the, irrational would be."  
"You don't want to know."  
"Their daughter, is dying. You can't blame them for this. Even with medical proof. She had a chance of this either way House. You can't blame everyone else when something bad goes wrong."  
"So you're saying I should blame myself? Like I haven't blamed myself enough the first time around."  
"I'm saying that this is, no ones fault. Not theirs, and certainly not yours."  
"I can't live without a blame Wilson, otherwise I blame myself."  
"Blame life."  
"I need a blame Wilson, not another metaphor."  
"It's not a metaphor. Life is hard--"  
"Don't you dare pull this cliche on me."  
"I don't know what else to say to you House. But you can sit here, trying to find the blame for this, or you can--be with her. She's alone right now. She needs you. There's no more time to spare, you know the diagnosis. You concluded the diagnosis. You know how this will play out."

He stared at House for a moment, and turned around to walk out. He left him to think about a few things, before getting up to head back over to the ICU. As he limped down the halls, the staff that had stayed behind for the holiday, stared. Majority of the hospital knew about their relationship, and what happened with it. So as he walked, they threw him looks of sympathy with every stride, and with every step he would take. When he reached the ICU, Nora and Steven were sitting outside, in tears. Inside, Wilson was talking to her. He was holding her hand as she wiped her face. House stood by Nora as they watched.

"Dr. House," Nora addressed him.  
"Please Nora. I owe you an apology--both of you. This isn't your fault. I have the tendency to take anger and blame on anyone at present. You'll have to excuse me for that." His voice wasn't sincere, but behind it all, he meant good.  
"Thank you, Dr. House." Steven replied.  
House just looked at Cuddy's parents, alternating from the mom to the dad. He examined, every part of their face. They both exchanged looks with each other as he just stared.  
"Is there--something wrong, Dr. House?" Nora finally asked.  
"You gave her those eyes. And you--gave her the lips."  
"I beg your pardon?" She asked him.  
He was referring to Cuddy's features. She had gotten her soft slate eyes from her father, and her contagious smile from her mom.  
"Nothing."  
"Thank you, Dr. House--"  
"You've known me long enough to address me as Gregory. Or even Greg."

Inside, Wilson had given her a tight hug, and a kiss on the forehead, before leaving. He addressed him before walking back to his office.  
"She's all yours."  
"How is she?"  
"Now, talking, let alone breathing, are the hardest things to do. She broke off, every other phrase, or even word."  
"Thanks."  
Wilson walked away, patting House on the shoulder, who was completely out of focus, staring blankly towards the floor. Cuddy just stared at him through the windows and then gestured her parents to try to get his attention. Nora nudged him on the shoulder and his eyes shifted from hers, to Cuddy's. They waited outside, and looked in, as he walked to the farthest corner of the room.  
"What is he doing?" Nora asked.  
"He's avoiding the situation."  
"Steven, this isn't a good time for him to be ignoring her. They--"  
"I think it would be hard, for any man, regardless of how strong they are, to say goodbye to the woman they love."  
"How do you know--"  
"House--is no oncologist. What other reason is there for him to be bending up and over for her?"  
Inside the ICU, Cuddy was trying to capture his attention.  
"House. Come here. House. House."  
He reluctantly looked up at her, and then slipped off his jacket, hanging it over the chair. He walked over, and sat down with her on the bed. She urged him to lie next to her, as they talked with each other, but he just sat, and reclined his back against the bed.  
"Now--you can say all--the goodbyes you want."  
He remained silent. Refusing to say anything.  
"House."  
"What."  
"Talk to me. Please."  
"There's nothing to talk about."  
"So--when I'm still living--you refuse to talk about anything else but--my death--and now--that I'm on the verge of it--you--shut up?"  
"Stop talking."  
"N--o. Not--until you--"  
"It's coming faster than we expected. An hour? A few minutes left. Within seconds, tachycardia, or you could just stop breathing, or the fluid could--"  
"Shh." She rested her head on his and closed her eyes. He could hear her heart rate slowing down behind him on the monitor. He knew it was coming. He closed his eyes too.  
"You love me right?"  
"Of course. Why would you ever ask me--"  
"Just a question--"  
"An unnecessary question that just wasted time--"  
"To prove something."  
"What."  
"That--were the only couple--that would ever--dare to fight--in a situation--like this."  
"That's--not funny."  
"I'd rather be--laughing, than crying--right now."  
"Yeah?" He could feel the heat between them. Keeping himself close to her, and feeling that warmth, was the only comfort that ever kept him settled. But that warmth, that satisfaction of having droplets of sweat dripping down his face, from being so close to her, that feeling of her presence, the quick brushes of her skin against his--it was all fading. He was losing his grip, regardless of what he could do.

"Hold on." He sat up in bed, and snatched out his phone, calling Wilson.  
_"What's up."_  
"Get a hold on Cameron and Chase. I need my kid."  
_"She's right behind you."_ House turned around; Chase was standing with Cameron, who was holding Rachel, who was playing with Wilson's face. They were all out there, prepared to witness this. He turned to Cuddy and saw her smiling at all of them. He gestured for the four of them to come in. Cameron set Rachel on the bed.  
"Thought you two set off?" House asked, taking a seat back with Cuddy.  
"Who do you think was taking care of Rachel?" Chase retorted. He and Cameron both gave sympathetic looks towards Cuddy. Cameron was on the verge of tears, so they both approached her, and gave her a hug. Even Chase, got a little teary. He sniffed a bit, before escorting Cameron out of there. As they did so, House had pulled Wilson aside.  
"Do me a favor?"  
"Yeah?"  
"If. When she goes into bradycardia, if I go reach for the paddles, anything--stop me."  
"It won't do anything. You'll only be wasting your time--"  
"Subconsciously, I know that my mind thinks, that I can still save her. Consciously, I've accepted I can't. I'll spring into action, even if I know nothing will work."  
Wilson, gave nod off to House, and half a smile towards Cuddy. He slowly walked out of there, and joined everyone else. Cuddy spent at least fifteen minutes playing with Rachel. She gradually formed tears. Then, Cameron came in to get her after House gestured at them to take her out.  
"I'm gonna miss this one. She won't even remember me to begin with."  
"She will. I'll make sure of that." House was slightly out of focus, he had once again, heard her the subtle change in her heart rate on the monitor. He got off the bed and walked around. The pain was surging in his leg like crazy. His arm, was nothing to him. But the familiar pain in his leg--it dug deep. Puncturing every nerve. So he walked around, aggressively, trying to relive it. Relieve the pain, and his thoughts.  
There was a thin coating of sweat, across his forehead, neck, even his chest. But this sweat, this coating of sweat was broken, with every single tear that was driving down his face. He breathed heavily in the presence of Cuddy, afraid to even look at her. And then, bradycardia. His eyes became tight shut as he walked over to Cuddy.  
"House. Look at me."  
"No."  
"Look at me."  
"I can't."  
"Kiss me."  
His face already inches away, he forced himself. Lasting for merely seconds, he let go and opened his eyes; Broken, slate eyes, gleaming with her soul's blood, she spoke her goodbye.  
"I love you House."  
"The only person that could ever say that."  
"If we had more time--"  
Monitor slowing--  
"Because I love you, I would've married you--"  
And at that moment, the glory, the grace, the beauty, and her damaged soul escaped the slate chambers in her eyes, and began to fade. House could no longer see through them like he had done several times before.  
Within seconds, he began to shake. So tempted to reach for the syringe, for the paddles, anything, as her heart continued to slow. His temptation was released, and he could not bare it. He jumped for the paddles and Wilson and Chase sprinted in. All in the illusion of slow motion, House prepared the defibrillator, and Wilson and Chase captured grips on House, pulling him away from all the equipment. It was a long struggle for that one minute; House was slipping and sliding as Chase and Wilson kept a grip onto his shoulders, holding him back, before the room was silenced completely by the flat line. Wilson and Chase let go of House, as the sadness filled. Nora broke, and burrowed her face into Steven's chest. Cameron, sobbed silently, trying not to scare Rachel. Chase and Wilson stood breathlessly beside House, motionless and silent. House shut his eyes for the remaining moment, threw his cane repulsively to the side, before limping out of the room and proclaiming his last words for the night.  
"Time of death, 9:57pm."

* * *

**Part Three: Stage Five - Acceptance**

_House's Office 11:55 p.m._

House sat in his office, looking out the window. Feet up on the file cabinets behind him, arms folded, and eyes glistening. He had spent two hours in this position after Cuddy had gone into bradycardia. Now the hospital was deserted, with the exception of very few doctors and of course the patients. Everyone else had gone home. With the exception of one person. The first person to approach him since.  
Wilson stopped at the doors of House's office for brief seconds. He looked at him, bowed his head, and casually slid his hands into his pockets, walking in quietly, and taking a lean against the side of his desk.  
"You're late."  
"I had to give you some time, didn't I?"  
"Don't you always?" Wilson hesitated to respond with a long pause.  
"I'm sorry, House."  
"You shouldn't be. Just because you're an oncologist, doesn't mean you _gave_ her cancer."  
"She didn't die of the cancer."  
"She was going to anyway, regardless of the heart attack and the rupture. Those--just made the joyous process all the more faster."  
"I sent Cameron and Chase home. I've got Rachel in my office."  
"Alone?"  
"Brenda's watching her."  
"She's still here?"  
"She was somewhat close to Cuddy."  
"Weren't they all."  
"And--they want you to do the arrangements."  
"I'm afraid to ask what arrangements, _they_, are referring to."  
"The viewing, and the funeral." House just looked at him.  
"Why, I don't know. I was sure they were the kind of parents to arrange their owns funeral." House sighed.  
"I don't think they could keep their sanity, knowing that their preparing a service for their dead kid. Hence--leave it to me."  
"True. But in what reality would they want to omit themselves from being a part of her funeral?"  
"This one, apparently. Doesn't matter. I already know who to call."  
"Good, I guess. Do you think you can handle this?"  
"You think I can't?"  
"Not for lack of responsibility--" he paused.  
"Never."  
"What do you--"  
"I'll be fine. Go home. Drop off Rachel here while you're at it." Wilson walked behind his desk and patted him on the back before walking to the door.  
"I really am sorry House."  
"Who said you weren't?"  
"I--I just want you to know."  
"I know." Wilson gave a nod and walked out, unsure of what to think at the moment.

* * *

_The Following Day 12:00 p.m._

The entire hospital was in more devastation than ever before. Wilson, had gone on the P.A., and rounded up everyone in the main lobby. He had announced Cuddy's sudden death, and informed them about the situation. There were tears, murmurs of all kinds after he had dismissed them all.  
Back in House's office, the team, along with Chase and Cameron, all huddled together around the table and discussed it.  
To no surprise, House was no where to be seen. It was past noon and he still hadn't arrived. This brought suspicions to everyone else, until Wilson dropped by, with House right behind him, with Rachel against his chest in a carrier sling.  
They ignored them all completely, and walked into his inner office and began talking. Everyone else exchanged looks. That's when Foreman decided to go over, with Chase and Cameron to follow. They walked in and just stood in front of them.  
"I called Heather, she's coming here tomorrow, to come see Nora and Steven--" Wilson broke off.  
"What?" House asked them.  
"Where have you been?" Chase asked.  
"Places," he replied.  
"Well, how are you?" Cameron dared to ask.  
"I'm fine."  
"It's funny you say that--" Foreman began. Wilson cut him off.  
"Can I see you guys in the other room?" He gestured them all back into the outer office with Taub and Thirteen. Wilson gave a speech to all of them.  
"You guys have heard. You probably have a good idea of how he is. But right now, is not the time to be begging questions about this. You wanna ask him how he's feeling, you wanna send your condolences, you even wanna give him a hug, now is not the time to do it. Not only is he mourning, but he is taking care of Rachel, taking care of the expenses for the funeral, planning. Unless you wanna help arrange the funeral, and pick up the remains of him, back off, until the funeral."  
They all gave a nod, and exchanged looks as he went back into the inner office. They all discussed amongst themselves after he closed the door.  
"_House_ is planning the funeral?" Thirteen asked shocked.  
"He planned my bachelor party. If he can do that, he can certainly plan a funeral."  
"You nearly died at that bachelor party." Cameron protested.  
"If someone dies at the funeral, at least it'll be ironic." he retorted.  
"But this is a funeral. House cannot handle a funeral," Taub added.  
"Well, he's got Wilson there. And there's a good chance that nothing will go wrong." Foreman said.  
"The last thing he would do, is allow _Cuddy's_ funeral to go haywire." Cameron concluded.  
They all sat back--and thought of the current situation. When all eyes turned toward the inner room, Wilson was leaving, and gave a precarious look towards House, and then the team, before walking out. After, their attention fell towards House, who was completely focused at his desk, lost in another world.

* * *

_Days Later - The Viewing 5:36 p.m._

Today was the viewing. A day where everyone could see Cuddy in her casket. There would be no service today, but visitors would come to see her for one last time before the funeral.  
House, was the only person up and about during the entire viewing. Spending time, greeting people at the door, helping with valet parking, seating everyone, somewhere. He had taken care of everything. Along with Rachel at his side.  
At the very back of the room, was a canvas on a stand. It consisted of photos of Cuddy into one collage. From her younger days, to her adulthood. Family and friends were also thrown in. To no surprise, House had put this together.  
Everyone was either conversing amongst each other, or sitting down and mourning, or seeing Cuddy. In general, everyone was preoccupied with what they were doing. House had finally taken a seat, away from everyone else on the staircase on the other side of the room. He had no doubt, a scotch in his hand to relief the stress. He had left Rachel with Cameron, Chase and Wilson, trying to take a break. And that's when his mother came over, and sat right beside him.  
"You shouldn't be here." She spoke, after moments of silence between them.  
"I have to, mom."  
"I meant, here, on the staircase to the morgue."  
"I'd rather be in presence of--rotting, dead people, than everyone else."  
"Do you really want to do this, for the whole time?"  
"What else is there mom. I gotta manage this damn thing, and the funeral tomorrow. I don't really have time to make small talk with the relatives."  
"You could. You could. But, you could also breathe for a little bit, take a rest, and mourn. Like what you're supposed to be doing."  
"I am in mourning," and he shot back the last of his scotch.  
"No. You're too busy working on, all of this. You're focused, so you don't have to deal with it."  
"I can't deal with this. Especially--" he broke off. Two, very, very familiar people entered the room. The two people, that made this situation, all the more worse. They looked around the room to find Nora and Steven, and gave them hugs. _He_, to no surprise, was walking. House, even prayed to God that they wouldn't notice him on the stairs. But _she_ did. And she walked over to him, clearly in soft tears. He shut his eyes tight, swallowed, and bowed to the floor.  
"Stacy?" Blythe asked.  
"Hi Blythe." Stacy replied. Blythe got up and gave her a hug.  
"It's been so long."  
"It always is isn't it?" Stacy released their hug, and just looked at him. His jaw was tensed, and he was looking down.  
"Greg?"  
"Yeah?" He released a sigh before saying so, and looked up at her.  
"I'm sorry."  
"For what?" Blythe looked at Stacy and then at him, so she excused herself, and slipped out of there. Stacy just held on to the railing, unsure of whether or not to sit next to him, or even continue talking.  
"It's good to see you," she finally said.  
"I'm not really sure if I can say the same." He looked up at her and then continued.  
"Seeing as the, present situation, doesn't exactly make this meeting any better."  
"You obviously don't want me here, why did you invite us then? I didn't think you would've invited me and Mark."  
"I did. I did. For her sake. Not mine. I don't need your shoulder to cry on. I invited you, so you could see her."  
"I came for you too Greg."  
"Bad mistake."  
"If you think my purposes here, are to--"  
"I'm well aware of your purposes here. Doing what you are right now--certainly not one of them."  
From across the room, Wilson caught them by his eye. He decided to casually walk over there, and save House from another reason to kill himself.  
"Stacy?" He asked.  
"Wilson. Good to--" He urged her away from House. They walked over by the collage, away from his sight.  
"What are you doing here?"  
"He invited me. Don't think I decided to crash on a whim."  
"Just because he invited you doesn't mean he wants to talk to you." Wilson sounded a little aggravated. Almost, angry at her.  
"It's bad to give him sympathy?"  
"He doesn't care for sympathy, or empathy, out of all people, from you."  
"That's a little harsh."  
"Can you really say that you can help him at the moment?" She didn't reply.  
"I don't think I need help picking up the pieces. I've done it a few times before. I don't remember you helping with them." Her mouth slightly dropped, as he just stared at him. He began to walk away but then he stopped.  
"It's good to see he's walking. Hint, hint." He turned his back, and walked back over to Chase and Cameron, leaving Stacy unable to speak.

* * *

_Next Day - The Funeral: 1:00 p.m._

House, had arranged the service to be in a funeral home, close by to Mason O'Reilly Cemetery. It had been raining today, so they could not perform the service outside.  
Inside of the home, several folding chairs were arranged in rows. All around, flowers of all kind flowed around the room. Near the front, a blown up picture of Cuddy and Rachel, rested on a stand next to Cuddy's casket. On the opposite side, there was a gaping space that held a white grand piano. A bouquet of lilies and roses sat on the open casket. Cuddy was dressed in her usual, low cut shirt, pencil skirt, with her hair let down. She looked no different than usual--you could mistaken her for being asleep.  
As people flooded into the home, House kept his place at the very back of the room. He didn't allow himself to be seated in the front, along with his mother, Nora, Steven, Heather, Cuddy's sister and her husband Gary. He even let Rachel sit with Nora and Blythe. But he stranded himself in the very back corner of the room.  
Soon enough, most of the people from the hospital had come. Cameron and Chase, took their place in the second row. Along with Taub and his wife, and Thirteen and Foreman. Wilson, was last to arrive out of all of them. But he had approached House before taking his seat with all of them.  
"Everyone's going to say something. Are you sure--you don't want to say anything? Anything at all?"  
"Just enjoy the funeral Wilson." He replied blankly. Wilson sighed and took a seat next to Cameron. After the last guest arrived, House shut the doors, and the service began.  
House leaned against the wall as he listened to Rabbi Nicholas. People were wiping their faces, some were shaking with sadness, it had hit all of them. Wilson's head was bowed, but you could could see tears falling right off his face. Cameron was crying bitterly--holding onto Chase's hand, who was also in tears. Thirteen looked away from it all, she kept her eyes closed and bit her lip. Foreman's eyes were widened, his head moved back and forth very slightly as he bit his bottom lip. Everyone had gotten hit by this--everyone but House. He remained calm. He was not in tears.  
After the rabbi had finished the opening, everyone went up and had a say. First starting with Cameron. Then Chase, Foreman, and finally Wilson. Taub and Thirteen had known her for only so long--they chose not to speak. The rabbi then approached his podium once more after Wilson finished. He only said a few more words. House knew it was his time.  
"Now that the friends have spoken, it's time for  
the last eulogy, prepared by someone very dear, and close to Lisa. Greg?" The rabbi gestured House to come forth. Wilson and the rest of them turned their heads at him as he limped down the aisle, head bowed. He made it up to the podium, and Rabbi Nicholas patted him on the shoulder, before trailing off to the side, allowing House to proceed. He held tight onto the sides and bowed his head.  
"Lisa Cuddy. Could you define her? In many ways--both good, and bad--but too many to mention. You've heard all her qualities by, everyone else anyway." He took a breath, and looked up at the crowd before him. Wilson looked directly at him; not in a serious way, but in a curious way. He began again.  
"Most of you, don't know me. And if you do, you know me as the jerk, or the pain in the ass, even the narcissistic son of a bitch. But what you all don't know, is how much I loved her." He exhaled another breath as he continued on.  
"And, out of all people, her death hits me the most. Because I loved her, no, because I'm 'the guy', no. By my side for half of my life, and I can't detect her early signs of lung cancer. Yeah, I don't look like an oncologist. It may not be my area of expertise, but the signs were there--and I was blind. Just like everyone else." He could feel himself choking up now. He gave a repeated swallow every few sentences or so, but he knew he was going to break soon.  
"Dying, when not even half her life is over. Watching her in pain, every day. I feel like it's payback. She had to watch me in pain, hence I have to do the same. She didn't blame me for her pain--but I blamed her for mine." He looked directly at Wilson. The room looked slightly blurry, as tears rested in his bottom lid.  
"I didn't blame her for all of it--but I took advantage of that blame, manipulating her guilt, to relieve me of the pain. She was just trying to save me. And now--the two women to take that blame for my claim--the two women I fell in love with--are out of my life." He looked directly at Stacy, who was standing in the far back, with Mark no where to be found.  
"With that said--it's time for the musical part of my eulogy, with the help of Lisa's sister, Heather Cuddy." He urged her over, as he limped towards the piano. He took a seat, rested his cane to the side, tested it out by playing a few keys, and gave Heather her pitch before playing the song. He gave one quick look at Wilson, and saw his alarmed eyes. His arm was still fragile--he could not understand why, nor how he could do this. But House threw back a reassuring look before looking back at the keys, and playing the song.  
Heather began to sing:  
_"Spend all your time waiting, for that second chance, for the break that would make it okay. There's always some reason, to feel not good enough, and it's hard at the end of the day, I need some distraction, oh, beautiful release. Memory seeps from my veins, let me be empty, oh yeah weightless and maybe, we'll find some peace tonight. In the arms, of, an angel, fly away, from here. From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear. You were pulled from the wreckage, of your silent, reverie. You're in the arms, of an angel, may you find, some comfort here."_  
This song was clearly not directed to whom Cuddy was. It was about what House had been saying before. Cuddy was saving him. In constant occurrences, she was trying to save him. She was the angel, who held him in her arms.  
With a short intermission in the song, Heather began to sing once again.  
_"So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn, there's vultures and thieves at your back. Storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lie, that you make up for all that you lack. It don't make no difference, escape for one last time. It's easier, to believe, in this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees. In the arms, of, an angel, fly away, from here. From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear. You were pulled from the wreckage, of your silent, reverie. You're in the arms, of an angel, may you find, some comfort here."_  
She dragged out the last two lines, as the congregation was in tears, along with herself, and House, who's hands were dampened with tears as they played the last few lines.  
_"You're in the arms, of, the angel. May you find.....some comfort, here..."_  
With everyone in tears, Rabbi Nicholas proceeded to end the service, and allowed everyone to exit the home, and make their way to the cemetery. House stayed stationary at the piano before Wilson had come over to talk to him.  
"She would've liked that." He patted him on the back and wiped down his face. But House refused to say anything. He got up, and walked over to Cuddy before they closed the casket. Wilson followed, and they both looked at her for one last time.  
"It's going to be hard to forget that face." Wilson admitted. House then reached into his jacket and pulled out something silver. He rested it on his finger and Wilson to pull out her hand.  
"What is that?"  
"What does it look like?" Wilson held out her hand for House, and he slipped the ring, onto her ring finger.  
"An engagement ring?"  
"An engagement ring."  
"She said yes?" Wilson asked in shock. House hesitated.  
"Before she died." He held her hand for one more time, before resting it onto her stomach, and kissing her on her forehead. They then closed the casket, and House, Wilson, Cameron, Chase, Foreman and Thirteen took their places. House and Wilson at the front of the casket, Chase and Cameron taking the middle, and Foreman with Thirteen, taking the back.  
They hoisted it up from the table, and walked down the isle. Wilson glanced at House, whose eyes were filled with tears. No one could notice but him, for everyone else was dealing with their own sobbing. But his sobs were hard to distinguish as they proceeded outside into the rain. It soaked his hair, and matted it down. It soaked his clothes, and his face as they continued walking. Shoes slapping, and clacking down against the wet pavement, sounded like they were marching--marching onward.  
By the time they got to the hearse, everyone had got into their cars with the exception of the six. They slowly slid the casket in, and House slammed the door shut. He turned, and looked at his fellow colleagues. They too, were soaking.  
Cameron and Chase first walked forward, and gave him a hug, and then made their way to their car. Next was Thirteen and Foreman, then they too left for their car. Then it was just Wilson and House standing in the rain.  
"You wanna drive?" House asked him.  
"Sure. I've always wanted to drive a hearse."  
They both got in, and drove to the cemetery--The three of them, for one last time.

* * *

_After the burial - 2:55 p.m._

Cuddy had been buried at Mason O'Reilly Cemetery. Where House had taken her that one night. Memories from that night floated back to him as he stood against the tree they had spent under.  
Everyone was conversing with each other as he stood had stopped raining during the burial, making things all the more easier--just burying at least.  
People gradually began leaving, single by single, then couple by couple and finally few by few. But they all sent their condolences to both Cuddy's family and House before they left.  
He wasn't far from Cuddy's tombstone. He was tempted to walk over for the billionth time, but he decided not to. From afar, Wilson broke off with Cameron, Chase and Foreman, bringing with him Rachel over to House. He walked down the hill, stood next to him, and looked out with him.  
"I've got her tombstone engraving memorized. I've come back and forth--"  
"I like what you put. It describes her perfectly."  
"That's kind of why I chose it." They stopped talking for about a minute, before House picked it up again.  
"If I can't accept this--"  
"You will, House. Give it some time."  
"Sure, I will."  
"You will. Everyone eventually does. I'm gonna go get my car, I left it back at the home. Take Rach." He handed Rachel to House, and kind of ran up the hill, passing by the team. House slowly bent down, sat against the tree and sat Rachel on his lap, as he gazed out into the distance. Then he felt a presence beside him. It wasn't a solid presence, misty, or cold. But a warm presence. Who else could give out that familiar warmth?  
"What are you still doing here?" Cuddy asked him.  
"I needed to say goodbye to you." He replied, turning his head to face the illusion of Cuddy beside him.  
"You've said goodbye, countless times. And this isn't goodbye."  
"It's close."  
"I heard what you said by the way. And you don't have to apologize. You had--have--every right to be angry with me and Stacy."  
"No I didn't. I didn't have the right to be angry at you. I had the right to be angry at her for other things, but not for that."  
"I'm dead, I don't have to argue with you anymore." She laughed.  
"Yeah?" He asked with a smile on his face.  
"I want you to get out of here, and take our baby home. You've said your goodbye House. It's not like I need anymore reminding of it. I'm dead."  
"It's always the wrong people dying isn't it?" he asked her blankly.  
"Stop it. Please." He watched the figure of Cuddy place her hand on his face. He couldn't feel it, only the warmth.  
"I'm going insane."  
"You just miss me. Now go. When you want to talk, come back here." Suddenly, footsteps coming down the hill could be heard.  
"Tell Wilson, and everyone else I love them." She smiled and got up, and he gave her a reassuring nod. She walked a few steps forward, saying one last thing.  
"I love the ring, House. It fits me well." She smiled and him one last time, before disappearing like a mist. Wilson finally reached them, ready to go.  
"Ready?" House nodded, as he got up slowly from the damp grass with Rachel tucked carefully in his arm, Wilson handed him his cane, and they walked up the hill towards the team and everyone else for departure.  
By the pond, Cuddy reappeared and went over to her tombstone. She tilted her head, and read the engraving, smiling, and looking back at House and Rachel as they left. She finally felt at peace.

___**Lisa Cuddy**  
The Exceptional boss, the Dedicated mother,  
and the Angel that wanted to save us all_


	21. Toasts and Ghosts

Rachel's head lowered and lowered, as she fell into a deep sleep on the ride back in Wilson's car. Her head tilted from left to right in her car seat, according to the turns and swerves.  
House couldn't keep his eye off of her. He had the tendency to keep looking back at her, or taking a fast glance in the rear view mirror. He knew she was fine--but he couldn't help it.  
Neither House, nor Wilson had said a word since their departure from Mason's, and nor did they attempt to. This awkward silence was not much of an awkward silence as it had appeared to be. But soon enough, Wilson had to do something--it's never House.

"Will you stop turning around? She's fine."  
"I know."  
"Then, what's up with your insane obsession to keep your eye on her like a hawk?"  
"I'm not the one driving."  
"Hence--?"  
"I never had to watch her when I drove. I'm not driving--but I feel the need to watch her."  
"House, you need to relax. This has been, an insane week. It's half past three. Everyone's going for a drink at Sherries. We're going."  
"Fine, fine, fine. Just do whatever. I'm tired of hearing you nag right now."  
"Come on, were here."  
Wilson had pulled into the parking lot of Sherries, and parked conveniently next to Chase and Cameron. Once he turned off the engine, they both got out, anh House unlocked Rachel's car seat from the back and carried her inside. They took a booth in the very back, but after House had set down Rachel, he walked straight for the bar.  
"I thought we were--" Cameron started to say.  
"I'll get him back over here," Wilson replied, taking off his jacket. He then walked over by House as he ordered his scotch on the rocks.  
"And you?" the bartender asked Wilson.  
"Whiskey. Neat." he replied. He then turned to House, who had just taken out two tablets of vicodin. He twirled them around on the counter, entertaining himself.  
"Vicodin? You've been clean for--"  
"Couple months. I know. Not long enough for you to praise me though. Care to join me in a toast?" he asked Wilson. Then he turned around and looked at the team.  
"HEY! My bitches! Time to make a toast!" he yelled out.  
"House, are you drunk already?" Thirteen asked with a smirk.  
"I just needed your attention. To make a toast."  
"We haven't even gotten our drinks yet." Wilson said.  
"Well, they have. They got the good bartender."  
The bartender returned with their drinks. He rested them on a set of thin, worn out coasters that read 'Sherries'. Wilson took his and so did House. His toast, incorporated the engravings on Cuddy's tombstone.  
"I'd like to make a toast--to Cuddy. The, Exceptional boss who made everything right; The Dedicated mother who did every damn thing she could for that--our kid; And the relentless angel, who tried saving all our asses when we needed saving, if we needed saving and even if we didn't need saving." They all gave sincere smiles, and raised their glasses high.  
"To Cuddy," House proclaimed. The rest of them replied like an echo before they all gulped their liquor.  
"To Cuddy." The team then went back to talking, and Wilson faced House again.  
"Come back to the booth. Come on. We're supposed to be taking your mind off a few things."  
"You figure, you buy me a few drinks, get me massively drunk, and I'll--forget. About all of this."  
"No. I intend to get you massively drunk so you can relax. Everyone wants you to. We all want you over there."  
"Give me a few minutes. Do a few shots, and I'll be over." Wilson then patted him on the back and walked off to the booth with the rest of the team as they reminisced on some memories. Wilson couldn't help to keep looking back at House as they did so. And that's when the worst became worse. Stacy walked in. She looked at them and then at House. She just stood there, waiting for him to turn around.  
"House!" Wilson had called out. He turned to look at Wilson, but saw her first instead. Then looked away. She walked over, but hesitated to sit down.  
"Can I sit?" he didn't respond.  
"House."  
"Sit. I don't care. No matter what I'd say you'd sit anyway."  
"Why are you so angry with me? I've been here for two days, and spoke to you once. Where in that lapse in time did I commit error, or wrong towards you? Please, enlighten me."  
"Your motives for talking to me--are faulty."  
"How."  
"You don't care. Yeah, you came for Cuddy, but you didn't come for me."  
"I came for both of you."  
"Right. You came back for the guy who shoved away your relationship with him."  
"I came back, for the guy who I know gets hurt a lot."  
"I don't recall saying I needed help picking up the damn pieces." he took a gulp of his scotch. The team had stopped talking and listened in. Which was fairly easy, seeing as it was only four, and the bar was close to empty.  
"Can you stop jumping down my throat for one second? I did not come here to flaunt Mark in your face--"  
"It's good to see his walking by the way."  
"I did not come here to make you miserable--"  
"Too late."  
"And I did not come here, just to pay my respects and condolences to Cuddy and her family. I came here, to comfort you."  
"I don't need comforting."  
"Then why did you invite me."  
"I told you, for Cuddy's sake--"  
"Oh bull. Next excuse."  
"I know you were close to her. You would've been pissed if you found out she died and I didn't invite you. _She_ would've been pissed if she knew I didn't invite you." The bartender appeared and looked at Stacy, waiting for her to order her drink.  
"She'll have a martini, dry." he said quickly. The man gave a nod, and went to go prepare it.  
"I'm perfectly capable of ordering for myself."  
"Of course you can."  
"God, you're being such an ass."  
"I think it might have to do with the fact of what happened today, but I don't know. Guys, what do you think?" he asked with cold sarcasm. Cameron was about to say something, but then Wilson nodded his head. House continued ranting.  
"Just because I apologized to you, doesn't mean I want to talk to you. Yeah, you didn't mean to, but you shoved him in my face. He's walking, he's talking, he's such a big boy now. I'm ecstatic for you both."  
"That didn't _just_ happen--"  
"Of course not. Which is partly the reason why I'm jumping down your throat. If you knew any better, you would've kept him at home and attended both the viewing and the service, alone."  
"I attended the service alone. You saw me--"  
"Knowing you, you warned him after the viewing. You told him not to come to the service, so he waited out in the car." Wilson finally decided to break this fight, before things could get out of hand. So he slid out of the booth and got between them, literally.  
"House--stop. Stacy, I'll talk to you later. But, get out. Just get out Stacy." House was surprised how hard Wilson was protecting him. He didn't think he was that fragile at the moment--or was he?  
"House? We're not finished here."  
"Oh, I believe that." She walked out furious, before her dry martini arrived. Wilson chugged it down instead, before giving the lecture.  
"What the hell's the matter with you? She's trying to help you and you don't push, you throw her aside?"  
"I don't want to get myself involved with that. If I talk to her in my current state--there's a good chance you'll be picking up more pieces." Wilson sighed, and put his hands on his waist, just staring at House. House looked the other way, gulped down the rest of his scotch, and abruptly set it down on the useless coaster. He then got up, and walked out.

* * *

  
_An hour later_

He slouched a little in his chair, and shoved his finger on the radio dashboard, turning on the music. To no surprise, it was set on a bluesy station--the station he had put it on the last time he was in Wilson's car, months earlier.  
"You never listen to the radio do you?"  
"I do."  
"How come you haven't changed the station in, what five, six months?"  
"I like this station. What's wrong with that?" Wilson gave occasional glances at him as tried keeping focus on the road.  
"_You_ don't like this music. I do."  
"I listen to blues."  
"Name a guy."  
"Just because you like blues, doesn't mean I don't."  
"Yes. That is true. But _you_ are easily annoyed with blues music, and most people, who like a genre of music, most of the time don't get sick of it."  
"What are you trying to get out of this? I don't understand what this conversation is--meant for. You're arguing whether or not I like blues music." House looked away.  
"I'm just saying that--" House broke off.  
_"Why would he even bother to argue with you in the first place?"_  
"Can you let me finish?" he asked, facing him again.  
"I--never interrupted." Wilson replied awkwardly.  
_"He would usually cast aside your remarks and comments--why is he choosing to argue about..This? And why now?"_ House looked around. This was definitely not Wilson's voice. Sure his handwriting was feminine, and he sometimes spoke in a feminine way, but not like this. Not like this.  
"What? Why do you keep looking around, what's wrong?" Wilson sounded worried. But, casually.  
"Nothing." He replied blankly.  
_"Oh. Don't pretend that I'm not here House. I know that you can hear me. But as I was saying, don't you see? He's trying to distract you about Cuddy. He's worried about you. He's scared."_  
House shut his eyes, clenched his teeth, and dared to turn around one more time--he had an excuse to pass over Wilson, but he was afraid of what he would find.  
_"Aren't you glad to see me?"_ Amber asked him curiously.


	22. New Management

House was kicked back in his chair, tensed, waiting on his team to arrive. Twirling his cane round and round, feet up on the desk, he looked like he normally would look like. On the outside at least.  
Only a day after the funeral, and he was back, being the same son of a bitch he would play out. A surprise to everyone. Everyone had tried convincing him to take a break from work for a while. They persisted, going from Wilson, to Cameron, Chase. And eventually once he team would arrive--they would continue the same thing.  
But he dismissed all of them. He couldn't think straight at the moment, but he knew that if he stayed at home, allowing himself to be trapped with these thoughts for God knows how long, he would eventually go insane. So to keep himself distracted, he needed to be at work. But even there he could find no relief, seeing as his thoughts would spit out at him every five minutes--literally.  
_"So do you think we feel as guilty as Wilson?"_ Amber asked him. She was sitting on his recliner as she stared him down. She paused, and waited for him to answer but he forced himself not to, but she continued.  
_"I mean--he's the oncologist. He probably feels as guilty as we do. But then again--he wasn't dating her. He couldn't have seen the signs as early as we could've, right? Anyone could've spotted them. It doesn't take a great diagnostician like us to catch the signs right?"_ He again, didn't answer. She started to get frustrated.  
_"You might as well talk back. Otherwise, I'll be on your back all day."_  
"You'll be on my back no matter what I do." he retorted, obviously annoyed.  
_"Then you should respond. Because you can't do anything about it."_  
"Or I can ignore you completely, hoping to shove you in the back of my mind, where you belong."  
_"We both know I'm here for a reason. Aren't you just--a little curious to why I am?"_  
"Not even the slightest. Cool it, Wilson's coming."  
_"Oh right, you don't want to look crazy. I can still talk though right?"_ Wilson walked in casually, as House popped in his candy.  
"I talked to Stacy." he spoke with a sigh.  
"And--that benefits me how?" he asked sarcastically.  
"She's just here to help." Wilson admitted.  
_"Of course she's here to help. Or--she just wants to get in your pants."_  
"She's staying here for a while. She--wants to help you cope with this."  
"You weren't this attentive towards her at the viewing or the funeral, even the bar. What'd she say to you?"  
"Nothing."  
"So you both sat there for about fifteen minutes, doing absolutely nothing and she managed to convince you that, I needed help coping and that she's the right person to do so? Why, that's brilliant." he said sarcastically.  
"She said nothing particular."  
_"He's ly-ing._"  
"Stop lying, just be straight with me."  
"I am!"  
_"He's still ly-ing._ her voice was taunting, even if it wasn't directed towards him.  
_"She's here for another reason. Mark?"_  
"She fighting with Mark?" he asked abruptly.  
"Why would she--"  
_"He didn't give you a yes or a no."_  
"She's fighting with him. Right?"  
"I..wouldn't say fight. A disagreement if you will."  
"Disagreement. Odd choice of words."  
"She's--she's _claiming_, that he's--"  
"Affair."  
"But that's not why she's back here."  
_"That one--isn't a lie."_  
"I believe that. Otherwise, she wouldn't have brought him along."  
"She didn't want to bring him along."  
_"That's a lie. She did, but for--other reasons."_  
"She wanted to. She brought him, to plant the idea in my head that they're fine, and that she really did come here--for me. And Cuddy."  
"So you wouldn't think that the only reason why she's here, is because she had a fight with Mark, and that she wanted to pay respects to Cuddy."  
"Excuse me gentlemen?" a tall man in a black suit and red tie had walked in. He had his hair combed back, hazel eyes, a very masculine face with an apparent five o'clock shadow. He looked fairly professional just by the way he talked, walked, and even stood.  
_"Whose the stiff?"_  
"John Shepherd." he raised his hand out to give a friendly hand shake to Wilson.  
"James Wilson."  
"Head of oncology right?"  
"Uh, yes."  
"Then--you must be Greg." he then held his hand out for House, but he looked away and refrained from shaking his hand.  
"It's House. Gregory House. I'd prefer House."  
"That's fine, that's fine."  
_"He isn't the--_"  
"I'm the new administrator and dean, here at Princeton-Plainsbro."  
_"Oh crap."_  
"Oh. Well, it's a pleasure John." Wilson said meekly. He side glanced at House fairly quickly.  
"So where you graduate from Shepherd?"  
"John Hopkins. I just transferred from Miami General."  
_"That would explain the insane tan he's got."_  
"It's good to have you." Wilson said. He was the only one stringing the conversation with him. House paid attention elsewhere.  
"Well, I'm just going 'round, greeting people, letting them know who I am so. I'll see you gents." he smiled, and walked out, leaving the two in silence. Suddenly, the team walked in to the office, and looked curiously at House.  
"Who was that? And--why are you here?" Foreman asked.  
"I'm here to do my job--"  
_"Right."_  
"And that, is our new boss."

* * *

  
"Please tell me we got something from the LP." House sarcastically begged to Foreman, Thirteen and Taub. His head was down on the desk as the three of them stood in a row before him. Amber stood close behind him on her knees.  
"Nope. Clean. Meaning, it's not neurological." Foreman uttered.  
_"So, what are we going with--genetic, environmental or infection?_ Amber asked him.  
"Taub, check the home for toxins, Foreman re-read through the history, check to see if we missed anything. Thirteen, run blood cultures, and get a STOOL sample." he uttered with annoyance. They all left for their duties as Amber walked throughout the room, pacing herself as she kept her conversation with House.  
_"You--obviously are being kept to yourself right now. You haven't even vented out your feelings to Wilson."_  
"I don't need to worry him about my juvenile feelings."  
_"Juvenile? You think killing us is juvenile? It's not juvenile it's worse than that. It's ridiculous. And if we told him, he couldn't blame us. He shouldn't be surprised that we're feeling this way. If, we let him know that we were feeling this way."_  
"They'll go away. Your part probably thought of them anyway."  
_"Of course not. Cue Vindaloo curry!"_ Stacy was walking towards the office when Amber proclaimed her presence. She wasn't in her usual clothes, she was casual, looking like she came for a social visit. Which it was.  
"Can I come in?" she practically whispered at the door.  
"Seriously? Okay--after, everything I've shot at you, you still don't feel the nerve to bitch at me?"  
"You're in pain." she said walking in. Then she took a seat in front of him so they could be eye to eye.  
"I'm always in pain."  
"I know. But you're in also in a different level of pain."  
"What. Are you going to tell me that despite the fact my hearts been shredded into a million pieces, that I'll be okay? If anything, I'm begging, don't pull that psycho-analyzing crap on me. Only Wilson can do that--and in much better form than what I just presented."  
"Why are you at work?" she spoke calmly. He sighed and looked the other way.  
"You need a break House. She--would want you to take a break."  
"You know what exactly what would happen if I did that. And in all scenarios, it still leaves me miserable so."  
"You think you'll be any better at work?"  
"It takes my mind off of it."  
"Right. Trying to save someone's life within a week always helps me relax."  
"Hey--leave me the sarcasm. And I heard."  
_"Don't do it._  
"You heard what?"  
"What else." he said simply.  
"God! He told you?" her voice had raised.  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I got it out of him, okay? Don't go ripping what's left of his balls off okay?"  
"Stop changing the subject. I'm fine." she defended.  
_"Knew that would backfire."_  
"You should've stayed at home." she continued again.  
"I'm fine."  
_"Now, she knows we're lying."_  
"You're leaving me in the dark. What's going on?"  
"Nothing." he stayed refined, but his voice had raised. She just looked at him and got up to leave.  
"Stacy," he whispered. She stopped.  
_"Don't do it. You know that if you tell her--she'll slip it to Wilson. And you know what we'll have to pay for once he collaborates on what to do--"_  
"What Greg?" he hesitated to answer. His mouth was left open, almost dangling, and daring to confess. But he silenced himself. Pulling the next thing that came to mind as a diversion.  
"I'm sorry about Mark." she gave a nod, and walked out.  
_"Thank God."_  
"She'll find out eventually," he admitted.  
_"You can't tell her."_  
"I know I can't. But someone's bound to--"  
_"They won't see them, if you don't show them. You have self control--I doubt you'd show those off. And besides, I'm sure we can come up with a witty excuse."_  
"Excuses get past everyone else. Wilson has hunches. He'll know to pull up the sleeve."  
_"Well. Until he gets his hunch--no one has to know, right?"_


	23. Misery to Insanity

A week since Shepherd had been hired--along with Cuddy's funeral.  
House was holding himself together--in alternate ways, resorting to--certain methods to relieve his pain.

_4:25 p.m._

He was washing his arms--or what it had appeared to be, in the men's restroom on his floor. The water looked dirty as it rolled off his arm and into the sink--but a rusty water look.  
After cleaning his entire arm, he grabbed his pocket knife laying on the counter, retracted the blade and slid it into his pocket. After drying his left arm, he rolled down the sleeve, hiding away the red marks--more slits near the wrist than the forearm and up.  
After he did so, he removed his cane, that had been slid within the handle, preventing admittance. Slowly getting outside, he removed the sign on the door that said in bold, "Temporarily out of Service," crumpled it up and tossed it across the hall into the trash, and limped back to his office. After three steps, Amber hand appeared.  
_"Enjoy your dosage?"_ she asked cheerfully.  
"No."  
_"Aw. Is little Greg upset that big Shepherd didn't let him do the brain biopsy?"_ she teased.  
"That, and because of it, he's going to let her die." he spoke it cold, as he turned into his inner office, and took a seat in his chair.  
_"You could always go behind his back. I mean, he's totally peeved at you for--well everything you've done in the past week and a half or so."_  
"Saving patients?" he defended with a sigh.  
_"The way you did it I guess? Going behind his back with all those other procedures."_  
"It was irrelevant to him. He didn't need to know, therefore, don't need to tell him."  
_"True. I mean, that's how it would go with Cuddy and she'd be okay with it in the end, because you'd usually prove that it needed it to be done. She understood that process, but Shepherd doesn't really get the concept."_  
"Don't remind me about the former."  
_"Well then. Shall we talk about your new drug?_  
"It's a method. Not a drug."  
_"Well, you've gotten addicted to it. And, it's not illegal, but it's morally wrong, so I guess technically you're breaking a rule somehow. And you enjoy it, so it's a drug."_  
"I haven't gotten addicted. I've done it, three times in the past week. It's not breaking _any_ rules, and I don't enjoy it. It's like when a kid doesn't want to go to sleep. They might not like it, but it benefits them anyway. That which, I'm not getting enough of either."  
_"Right. So your--cutting yourself, a pain, relieves your other pain--emotional. Cuddy."_  
"Don't."  
_"You don't have a choice. You can't escape these feelings. Feelings of--guilt? You feel you're trapped with them, and they're suffocating you."_  
"Do you want me to kill myself?"  
_"Why would I want to kill us?"_  
"Because that's the only rational explanation I've come to that clearly explains why you're here." House stopped abruptly, and saw his team coming. He tried to screen her out once they came in, and informed him about the patient.  
"She's getting worse." Foreman proclaimed as they all crowded in the room.  
"We need that biopsy. Now."  
"You're actually agreeing with me?" House asked.  
"Well--yeah."  
"She's obviously dying, if he's resorting to agree with you," Taub interjected. House just jerked his head to the left, still looking directly at Foreman, before giving directions.  
"Do it."  
"I thought Shepherd didn't sign off?" Thirteen asked.  
"Who cares. It's Shepherd, and it's a brain biopsy."  
"You want to give him another reason to be pissed with you?" Foreman lectured.  
"Weren't you just agreeing with me?"  
"I agreed we need a brain biopsy. I never agreed anything about doing it behind his back."  
"So, he's the new boss, and we're testing him out. You guys are--playing it safe. We need to see how far we can push him."  
"And if we push him too far?"  
"I'll deal with that. Just--go get the biopsy. Soon as you find something--find me. Don't hesitate." They all flooded out of there, a little hesitant at first, but they left. Leaving him to wallow in self pity.

* * *

  
_Several minutes later - 5:00 p.m._

_"I want to kill you."_ Amber spoke proudly.  
"Thanks for finally admitting it," he said with his head flat on his desk.  
_"Not because, I want to. But because you, want to. It's actually kind of the same thing if you, really, think about it."_  
"I-don't-want-to-kill-myself." he enunciated.  
_"Believe what you want."_ Suddenly, Wilson knocked on House's door, slightly upset--or more.  
"You idiot. You did the biopsy anyway?" his voice raised as he walked into the room.  
"I had to." he said meekly.  
"Shepherd's looking for you. He wants your ass in his office. He called me, because apparently you haven't been answering his calls."  
"You really expect me, to relinquish myself to him?"  
"No. I expect you to be protective of your ass. And slack a little less. He isn't Cuddy, House. You can't win him over. He will crush you because--"  
"I do the right thing? If I didn't make Foreman do the biopsy, she would be dead."  
"House--he stopped the biopsy as soon as it was charted. He gave his spiel to Foreman and Taub for listening to you. He threatened to fire them. And--the girl died. She went tachycardic, and she died right there." his voice broke off a little as he ended the sentence. House's eyes had turned into a glare, and he shot up from his desk walking out.  
"What's that--is that blood on your sleeve?" before he could get his answer, House was already out of the room and making his way down to Shepherd's office. Furious, he threw the doors open to his office.  
"You son of a bitch! You killed my patient!"  
"No, _you_ killed your patient! If you had just gone with another alternative, she would be alive."  
"The biopsy was the only alternative left! If we had done the biopsy--"  
"You would've risked brain damage, and possibly cripple her for life!"  
"Would you rather her dead than brain damaged? And don't you pull the cripple card with me. Out of all cards to set down, you've got yourself empty-handed."  
"House! You have been impulsive on both cases you've had for the past two weeks. Last week, I tolerated it, because I figured, you were a little upset about a new boss and the funeral and such. But this week? You've pushed me, way beyond you can handle."  
"I can handle you perfectly. I've been pushing you for a reason. I need you to know, how I work things, and how far I really need to push them. My only obligation I have to this hospital is to save the lives that I've been given. I'm not obligated to promise you that I won't lie to you, that I won't steal from the cookie jar when you're not looking. I may be breaking the rules, and I may be insubordinate, but that's the only way I can save a damn life in this hospital."  
"Rules apply to everyone House! I'm sure that in the past, people have told you that you aren't special. You aren't set aside for anything. You have to follow every rule and protocol in his hospital."  
"If I did that, do you know how many people would be dead? Rules are irrelevant when it comes to saving lives Shepherd! Some rules apply, and that's the matter of keeping them alive! If you don't understand that, I think you've chosen the wrong career path!"  
"If you don't know how to follow rules House, I don't want you at my hospital."  
"What are you saying."  
"You're fired, House."  
"You can't fire me--"  
"I can. I just have. Finish what's left of your clinic duty this week, and you can leave Friday."  
"You can't shut down my department--"  
"I'm not. Dr. Foreman will be in charge of that."  
"You can't--"  
"You're fired, House. Get out of my office." House just looked at him with bloodshot eyes, as Amber crept up behind him, and rested her face less than an inch away from his ear.  
_"Now--are you sure, you don't want to kill yourself yet?"_


	24. The Ultimatum

**Previously on "Summer Evenings":**  
House shut his eyes for the remaining moment, threw his cane repulsively to the side, before limping out of the room and proclaiming his last words for the night.  
"Time of death, 9:57pm."

"I'd like to make a toast--to Cuddy. The, Exceptional boss who made everything right; The Dedicated mother who did every damn thing she could for that--our kid; And the relentless angel, who tried saving all our asses when we needed saving, if we needed saving and even if we didn't need saving." They all gave sincere smiles, and raised their glasses high.  
"To Cuddy," House proclaimed. The rest of them replied like an echo before they all gulped their liquor.  
"To Cuddy." The team then went back to talking, and Wilson faced House again.  
"Come back to the booth. Come on. We're supposed to be taking your mind off a few things."

Stacy walked in. She looked at them and then at House. She just stood there, waiting for him to turn around.  
"House!" Wilson had called out. He turned to look at Wilson, but saw her first instead. Then looked away. She walked over, but hesitated to sit down.

_"Oh. Don't pretend that I'm not here House. I know that you can hear me. But as I was saying, don't you see? He's trying to distract you about Cuddy. He's worried about you. He's scared."_  
House shut his eyes, clenched his teeth, and dared to turn around one more time--he had an excuse to pass over Wilson, but he was afraid of what he would find.  
_"Aren't you glad to see me?"_ Amber asked him curiously.

"John Shepherd." he raised his hand out to give a friendly hand shake to Wilson.  
"James Wilson."  
"Head of oncology right?"  
"Uh, yes."

"I'm the new administrator and dean, here at Princeton-Plainsbro."

"I haven't gotten addicted. I've done it, three times in the past week. It's not breaking any rules, and I don't enjoy it. It's like when a kid doesn't want to go to sleep. They might not like it, but it benefits them anyway. That which, I'm not getting enough of either."  
_"Right. So your--cutting yourself, a pain, relieves your other pain--emotional. Cuddy."_  
"Don't."

"You son of a bitch! You killed my patient!"  
"No, you killed your patient! If you had just gone with another alternative, she would be alive."  
"The biopsy was the only alternative left! If we had done the biopsy--"  
"You would've risked brain damage, and possibly cripple her for life!"  
"Would you rather her dead than brain damaged? And don't you pull the cripple card with me. Out of all cards to set down, you've got yourself empty-handed."

"You're fired, House. Get out of my office." House just looked at him with bloodshot eyes, as Amber crept up behind him, and rested her face less than an inch away from his ear.  
_"Now--are you sure, you don't want to kill yourself yet?"_

* * *

_An hour later -_

House sat on the floor of his office, head rested against a wall with his legs out, tapping his cane on his desk opposite of him. It had been an hour since his and Shepherd's spat, along with his dismissal. When Wilson had found out, he was furious, morally outraged, and antsy. He had come in, and patronized him about the situation, giving the ultimate lecture. Which continued--up till now.

"He FIRED you. How can you just sit there? You out of all people should be pissed."  
"I'm angry."  
"But, in a rational manner. Why? You should be throwing things, and having a tantrum. Instead, you sit and listen to me give you a lecture."  
"There's no point. He fired me. He's a son of a bitch, but I can't do anything. I'd rather obsess with my current problems, that obsess with the new ones he's given me."  
"I think Cuddy would be just as upset as I am. She's probably turning over in her grave right now."  
"It's more serious than that."  
_"Don't do it."_ Amber protested from his chair.  
"How much more serious could this get--" House rolled up his sleeve and revealed the cuts up and down his left arm. Wilson's eyes widened as he got on his knee to examine his arm.  
"How long?"  
"Last week." Wilson gave a disappointed sigh as he continued looking at his arm.  
"Can I have it back now?" he asked sarcastically. Wilson dropped his arm and got back up to pacing the room.  
"Why, House. Why do you do this?" Wilson asked facing away from him. House hesitated to answer.  
"I don't know."  
"If you were feeling suicidal, you should've talked to me."  
"I'm-not-suicidal. I was sure that you'd expect this--"  
"Just because she's lost hers, doesn't give you the right to jeopardize yours."  
"They're cuts. It's not like I've tried to off myself."  
"I find that hard to believe." he turned to face him.  
"I haven't." he replied more seriously.  
_"You will."_ Amber uttered sinisterly.

House's eyes tensed--enough to be recognized by the focused Amber, discreetly enough to not be recognized by the antsy Wilson. Suddenly Stacy came prominent down the hallway after spotting him and Wilson in the office. As soon as she got in there, she started her own lecture.

"You got yourself FIRED?" she asked him angrily. They both sighed, House gave a chance at replying.  
"Who told you."  
"Everyone."  
"Which means I'll be getting at least five more of these aren't I?" he asked sarcastically.  
"That's the least of our problems. Look at his arm." Wilson stated. House just glared at him and she bent down and also examined his damaged arm.  
"You've been doing this? The whole time?" she asked as she ran and traced her fingers along his cuts.  
"I'm fine," he stated getting up.  
"I'm not suicidal either." he defended.  
"Right. Of course, cutting your arms doesn't necessarily mean that you're suicidal."  
"You don't believe any word of that, don't you?" he asked, slightly entertained at her skeptical comment.  
"Not-one-word." she enunciated. He sighed, glanced discreetly towards his chair, looking for Amber. She had disappeared. He felt a brief sense of relief.  
"I'm going for a drive," he said as he began to leave the room.  
"Where you going?" they asked him simultaneously.  
"Away from here."

* * *

_Less than a half hour later - on the road_

House just drove furiously on the road. Sorting his mind out about certain things. About what he was going to do about simply--everything. And to make matters worse--Amber sunk into his subconscious as they drove. She sat in the backseat, but she kept herself alarmingly close to him.

_"So. You've lost--everything. Everything--that could ever keep you sane. And you're still miserable. But not your--painful misery. No. This misery--it's what's gonna make you do it, isn't it?"_  
"If you keep talking to me like that, I might consider it."  
_"I have to talk like this. I've come back, for a reason. You still haven't found that out yet."_  
"I'm sure your reasoning is--"  
_"You're not even miserable. You've changed the definition of misery. You've gone through your life, torturing yourself. Hoping that someone would come along--and prove you wrong. Prove that, there is such thing as hope, and that there was such a thing existing in this world. She came. She fulfilled that. And then she was taken away--along with all that hope that she had released to you. She got you to believe in the one thing that your father had ridden of you so many years ago. Pure hope. You lost that hope. You were stripped of it when your father had abused you. He stole it out of you. Stealing it from your eyes...your veins....And that lack of hope, it's made you what you are. You resent him for that. Before, you may have resorted to--other alternatives to pass you by and screen it all out. But it still changed you. And you hate yourself for that. But it's not your fault. Yet you blame yourself. A self induced misery. Why? You don't think you are, but you're protecting him. You've subconsciously protected him your whole life from what he did. You resented yourself--acting like you weren't good enough for him. To please him. Why? "_  
"--It doesn't make sense."  
_"That doesn't make sense?"_  
"_That_, made perfect sense. Cause it's the truth. But how could you have re-emerged, if I don't recall you leaving?" he began to think for a moment, staring blankly at the road as he drove onward.  
"No. How could I--?"  
_"Don't believe it."_  
"_'Reality is blind. And dreams are clairvoyant.'_ The drug trials--sleeping disorders. Cuddy--she. Stacy--and Mark. The affair. _John_ Shepherds. Then--you."  
_"This is all real, House. All of this."_ he just shook his head, before making an insane turn, swerving in the opposite direction heading back to PPTH.  
_"What are you doing?_  
"Proving a point," he stepped on the gas, and rushing back to the hospital.

* * *

_Back at the hospital - 7:45 p.m._

House had returned back to the hospital in a matter of minutes. In his office, he had turned off all his lights, and began to jot down a message on a post-it note. Walking out, he left it visibly on the door and made his way for the staircase. Amber followed close behind.  
_"Where are we going?_  
"Roof."

Wilson was laid back in his office, aggravated, and rolling his palms on both sides of his head. Stacy sat close by as they were talking about him. Their conversation had been interrupted by someone screaming about the halls for Wilson.  
When they opened the door, Cameron and Chase were running towards them.  
"What's this supposed to mean?" Cameron proclaimed. Then she handed him the post it in her hand, and Wilson and Stacy read it together. It was written very scratchy in sharpie.

_**Wilson and everyone else -  
I don't know if I'm dreaming, hallucinating, or even if this is real. I gotta prove it somehow.  
If it's a dream or a hallucination--I'll see you guys.  
If it isn't, I'm sorry.  
- House**  
_  
He looked at Stacy in horror as she did she same. Dropping the note, they both ran. Chase and Cameron looked at each other, and soon followed after.  
Running up the staircase, the footsteps echoed as they made their way up the flights of stairs. Pushing the door open to the roof, they immediately saw House facing away from the edge standing barely on the ledge.

"House!" Cameron shrieked.  
"What are you doing?" Chase protested.  
_"This isn't a dream, House. This is your reality. As far as this goes, you're about to commit suicide."_  
"You should be glad," he said aloud.  
"Who are you talking to?" Wilson asked.  
"I'm--hallucinating. And dreaming."  
"House, this is real. Even if it isn't, the test for it shouldn't be you committing suicide!" Wilson lectured. Soon enough, Cameron and Stacy were in tears as they waited in fear for what he would do.  
"Clear cut signs--and I dismissed them. This is what made this insane hallucination real--my wants were mixed in with my fears. Some of the scenarios are even plausible. That's why it fooled me. And that's why I have to jump."  
"This is crazy House!" Wilson began to inch towards him.  
"It is crazy. And if this is what I think it is--I'll see you guys soon. If it isn't, tell Rachel I'm sorry too." and then he fell back, as they all gave loud cries as he fell onto the air.

_It was all in slow motion. I saw their four faces, and then fell back, falling stories from the ground. I saw all their faces over the ledge as I descended. The air below me waved my arms and legs around as I came plunging--merely seconds before impact, a whisper appeared to echo in my ear...._

I love you, House

Then--


	25. The Resurrection

_--Yes...Falling stories from above, I came down for the last few seconds very gracefully. Not onto cement--a bed.  
A bed. A bed. I was right.  
As long as I stayed there, I slowly began to hear, smell, and feel all my surroundings. I began to feel a pain--I felt like I wast trampled by a bull, or thrown across a lacrosse field.  
The fall, strangely enough, had nothing to do with this...Again, I fell  
Onto a bed._

Wilson had walked into the ICU to check on House, finding Cuddy already there. She was sitting on a chair asleep, using House's jacket as a blanket. He walked over to her, and stroked her head. She woke up right after.

"What, Wilson?" she asked sleepily.  
"You've been here since the accident. You've gone home at least an hour a day this entire month." he stated.  
"Your point?" she asked, as she pulled his jacket over her shoulders.  
"He's in a coma. He's been for a month. Waiting for him to wake up--"  
"Don't start this again. I admitted him. He's under my care. I should be the one waiting for him to wake up again." Wilson just stood there staring at her. He didn't know what to say at this point.  
"If this visit, is medically relevant tell me now. If it isn't, and you're going to convince me to leave, get out." she said.

Suddenly, he turned the other way. He was looking at House, opening his eyes. Slowly, as if just waking up after a long nap, his eyelids opened up. He was facing the ceiling, looking at all white. Mouth slightly hanging he tried to come conscious. Cuddy had sat up in her chair as they both looked at each other, watching him. He turned his head to look at them, both in a shock.

"You idiot." Cuddy said in tears.  
"You're back...You're back..?" he said weakly.  
"I--never left."  
"She's been here since she admitted you." Wilson added.  
"Why..."  
"Because--you're an idiot, who runs around like a maniac, always doing something stupid."  
"Hence..._you_ have to sit at my bedside every day. You got Rachel, don't you..."  
"Since when do you care about her?"  
"I don't..." he defended slightly.  
"She's with my mom."  
"Where as you, should be at Mayfield. Instead, you handle the first month juvenilely, and decide to escape and get yourself hit by a car." Wilson stated sternly.  
"That explains...the three broken ribs...the fractures on my legs...and..the..con..cussion.."  
"You feel all that?" he asked him.  
"No, I guessed. Actually, I went off the coma..for a few hours and looked..through my file, went right back when you weren't looking." he uttered sarcastically.  
"You've been out for a month. You've missed a lot. And after this--**you are going back to Mayfield.**" Cuddy spoke to him slightly controlling through her broken, and shaky voice. He just looked at her, and gave a nod, before resting his head fully back and closed his eyes. Cuddy looked up at Wilson, and he began to urge her out.  
"I'll take over from here," he had said at the door. She gave a nod and walked out. Wilson just slowly turned around, shifted his hands into his pockets and looked at him.

"I sent her out--for a reason." Wilson said finally.  
"I know." he retorted.  
"You _ran_ away. Got yourself hit--and you've been in a coma for about a month. The fact that you've shown no remorse towards this reminds me that you're still House and that I shouldn't be surprised. But sometimes, I hoped if you'd surprise me."  
"Don't higher your expectations, you'll just be filled with disappointment," he stated with his eyes still closed.  
"You're acting like--none of this is your fault."  
"It isn't."  
"If you hadn't run away--"  
"If they hadn't pissed me off, and if that guy was sober he would've noticed me on the road and I wouldn't have gotten hit."  
"He was sober. I just don't think he was expecting a cripple to waltz by, j-walking across the main road at four in the morning."  
"Just goes to show how alert you should really be while driving, at all times." he said sarcastically.  
"He hit you head on, and tossed you up in the air. We were scared, that you wouldn't wake up again. Cuddy was suicidal for two weeks! Cameron was just as worse. Chase--attended to you like a son. The team--haven't taken a case since. And I'm sure you can take a few wild guesses for me." House opened his eyes and looked directly at Wilson.  
"You knew I would eventually wake up. Don't tell me that you were all scared to death. If you were worried, that's all your own damn fault."  
"We're sorry for caring. I'll make sure to post a memo."  
"Oh don't pout. I got hit by a car, banged my head, broke a few bones--"  
"You could've died. Died House!"  
"Yeah, I could've. But do you know how many other people were dying at the moment when I was in a coma? You all wouldn't know, because you were too busy holding _my_ goddamn hand!"  
"Just because you don't give a damn, doesn't mean we don't House! If the human race were incapable of giving a damn, we would all be at each others throats, and we would die out. Giving a damn is humane, it's what we do! Now if you had just stayed there--"  
"I'd be better, yeah. Lock up House in the asylum! He's crazy and doesn't know what he's doing, so we're going to help him cope with this by keeping him in solitary confinement!"  
"You have deeper problems here, House. Two former colleagues died before you, you we're abused as a child, you had become a cripple despite your own wishes. I'm not surprised that you were hallucinating, because if you weren't, there would be something even worse than this. You've brushed all these things off your shoulders, and now you have to pay for it. It's not the vicodin that's got you in there House. It's the pain. And you have to deal with it." Stifling for a little bit, they stood in silence.

"Talk to Cuddy." Wilson began.  
"Give her a dose of your old banter. You owe her that much right now." Wilson turned for the door, and said something quickly before walking all the way out.  
"And it wouldn't kill you to show some humility about this, and admit you're still a juvenile delinquent..." he had walked out, and House snickered in his bed, thinking how good it was to be back in reality.

* * *

  
_Later that night - 8:00 p.m._

Wilson was walking up the stairs to House's apartment. He had requested a few things at his home, so he ventured out to get them. The door, when he had got there, was surprisingly already opened. Being cautious, he carefully walked in. Cuddy was sitting at the piano, holding loose leaf paper in her hand. She was saddened as she read through. Wilson just walked over, casually starting the conversation.

"What's that?"  
"Read it." she handed it to him and he read through fairly quickly and looked back down at her.  
"Intense."  
"When do you think he wrote this?"  
"Recently." suddenly he held his tongue. He knew he made a mistake. He gave it back to her and she set it down on the piano once more.  
"There's no date, how could you possibly know? Not unless you've examined the text. Nothing in here gives off anything that happened recently."  
"Y--you're right. Just--forget it. Besides, what are you doing here?"  
"Who do you think has been checking his mail and keeping this place in tact since he had left for Mayfield?"  
"Oh. I thought Cameron would've done that."  
"She's got a husband to worry about. She's married now."  
"And you have a kid to worry about, by yourself."  
"Who else is gonna do it."  
"Me? You're just adding another load on yourself."  
"Might as well."  
"Sacrifice. You do that, only when it's necessary. Which, this isn't. You've got no reason being here."  
"Being here is what's kept me sane. I don't know anything else that will. I actually feel like that poem is about me." she said getting off the bench. They began to walk towards the door.  
"I thought you had to get something for House?" she asked as they opened the door.  
"No, I just saw you leaving. Going somewhere else instead of your direction home." and they closed the door, leaving the apartment back to its' silence.

_Isolated  
in a reality where  
happiness is redefined.  
There is none.  
For anyone.  
Misery is essential.  
Pain is essential.  
Pleasures are deprived.  
Joy is irrelevant._

Facts aren't justified.  
Truth is cast aside.  
Lies are infectious.  
Sins are a virtue.

Living a blameless lie  
with no intention of confession.  
The truth will eventually slip  
for benefit of anothers' lip.  
She will extrapolate the facts  
take what she can  
and detain, before confront.  
Nothing will she gain  
except the truth--she retains.

is there a cure  
for a pain like this--  
to compensate--  
to surrender bliss?  
this desire  
won't go away.  
The desire  
for life lived  
outside this confinement  
this reality, left  
Isolated.


	26. The Week

House was slowly repairing himself for the two weeks he had to stay left at PPTH. By the second to last week, they had seen some improvement. His bones were still broken and the fractures were slowly mending, but the cuts had become scabs and eventually scars, and the bruises lightened. The concussion however--was their main problem at the moment.  
The longitudinal fracture along the temporal bone that he had received only a year ago had reopened, with an added on of seven millimeters.  
it had healed fairly well during the timespan of his coma, but there was still also a fair amount of damage left. The fracture has shortened and the skin was healing, but occasional bleeding from his ear canal occurred.  
Within the last week of his stay before departing back to Mayfield, Wilson was convincing him to do the same thing he had asked of him at Mayfield---the hallucinations.  
Besides his fracture, this was another unresolved issue that kept more so Wilson awake at night than House.

_Sunday_  
"So you think that--irritating my delicate brain seeing how fragile it is, is the best way for me to be resting?" House asked with annoyance.  
"It's been TWO months, and she still doesn't know."  
"So--you've stated that, time does go on and that she's ignorant? I think those were a given, yes?"  
"We've concluded that she's been obscured from the truth for far too long, and that you are too proud to confront your feelings for her. You spent the first night wallowing in your self pity, instead of calling her up and explained what the hell was going on with you."  
"I'm sorry, but my arrival wasn't as pleasant as I had hoped. You know, seeing as my arrival was at an asylum."  
"Right." he agreed skeptically.  
"Why couldn't you pull out the chops to tell her? You're all about stuff like this."  
"Maybe," he started as he walked backwards towards the doors. "I figured that this was one of those few things you had to you know, actually deal with yourself." and he exited the room, allowing him to be alone with his thoughts.

_Wednesday_  
Asleep on his bed, House looked as peaceful as a child, but without the occasional stirring. Bandaged was a new look for him. The cuts along his face and hands, were a new look for him. Being the patient, was familiar.  
Cuddy had returned to his bedside once again, loyalty striking her once more. A cruel curse that had taken over her long ago, through her own guilt, but no fault of her own.  
Sitting helplessly devoted, she watched him sleep. Every now and again, stroking his head, tracing her finger tip along his cuts and over his bruises. She would constantly sweep his hair to the side, giving her something to do. Cameron then appeared in the window, walking with a nurse. Excusing herself, the nurse walked away as Cameron entered the ICU.  
"Thought your shift was over?" Cuddy asked in realization of her presence.  
"Thought you quit _this_, but we've all got reasons, right?"  
"Right. Go home."  
"You can't leave, can you?" she asked with a smile.  
"I can. I have."  
"For more than twenty-four hours?"  
"Yes." Cuddy stated weakly.  
"That's what I thought. You can't--" she had started. she let out a soft sigh and began again.  
"Everything he's done, everything he's said--"  
"I know where this is going. I just have respect for him, because he respects me--"  
"That's not respect. It's unconditional love and loyalty you have towards him. It's this--inhuman kind of loyalty and compassion. He's insulted you--in ways that left you almost broken and in tears. Other times you were in tears. You come back again the next day, and act like--nothing happened. You don't even expect an apology. Not that he could. He would to you, but even then."  
"Respect, Cameron. That's all we are."  
"You expect me to believe that?"  
"Until later yes. Confessions are done with a one and one. Right?" Cuddy asked, widening her eyes, glancing towards the bed.  
"That's an actual valid excuse. But don't think you're getting off that easy." Cuddy gave an awkward nod as Cameron walked out. Cuddy sighed and turned back to him, and continued what she had been doing moments earlier.

_Friday_  
After a pep talk for both sides, Cuddy refused to confront House. He was the same. After merely hours of lecture from Cameron and Wilson, they both still refused to talk to each other on the particular matter. Cuddy refused to confront her own feelings, while House refused to fess up the hallucinations. Since nothing had been mentioned in her constant visits, they only discussed his current health and the team. But tired of waiting for someone to make a move, Wilson stepped in for team House and Cameron for team Cuddy. On their own time, they pulled the opposing team aside for a face to face confrontation. The current team in possesion: Team Cuddy.  
In the act of changing his bandages, Cameron had switched places with the nurse prepared to and went into the ICU. Seeing her arrival, he rolled his eyes and she laughed as she made her way towards his bed where everything had already been set up.  
"Enjoying yourself?" Cameron asked sarcastically. She began to slowly help him upright, but he slapped her hand away instead. After he got up, she lifted his shirt and began removing the bandages. He gave occasional winces as she removed them.

"Where's Cuddy." he awkwardly asked.  
"Talking to Yvensteir about discharging you."  
"Why her, why not Wilson?"  
"Why _not_ her?"  
"She's concerned which is stupid. Which makes her stupidity my suspicion."  
"You were concerned where she was, are you stupid too?"  
"I wasn't concerned, I was curious of her concern. She's been one changing these all week. Now you. I'm curious." rolling back down his undershirt, she then pulled back the blankets to check his legs. She examined his legs as they talked on.

"Why would she voluntarily go, and talked to Yvensteir--" he stopped. Waiting before continuing.  
"You said Yvensteir?"  
"Yeah." she covered his legs again, finished and just looked at him.  
"What's the big deal, he's been your doctor since you were admitted at Mayfield."  
"Jakob, Yvensteir."  
"What?"  
"Reality is blind--dreams are clairvoyant." he said hoarsely.


	27. Return to Mayfield

It was finally Sunday.  
House was hopping on one foot around his room, cautious of his injuries as he zipped up his pants. As he hopped back towards his bed, he reached for his undershirt folded on the bed. All along his torso, bruises and scars remained. Half of the torso was covered in bandages for his ribs and along the side of his head, stitches traveled across.  
After slipping on his undershirt, he had thrown on his blue button down, keeping it open. Suddenly, Cameron walked in and brought his luggage along with his leather jacket and cane.

"You'll be needing these." she said as she sat them on the bed.  
"Who got my clothes?"  
"Wilson. You need a few more over there at Mayfield."  
"Right."  
"You gonna button that?" she asked with a laugh.  
"What do you want?"  
"What?"  
"Give your little spiel, so I can finish packing." he said mockingly.  
"Talk to her. Please?"  
"I'm leaving, I got no time for chit chat with mommy."  
"She needs to talk to you. She wants to."  
"I got no time for that," he said picking up his stuff and walking out. Cameron trailed close behind him in her pink scrubs.

"Don't talk to me."  
"Then talk to her."  
"Can't, bein' discharged."  
"Ten minutes--"  
"Almost in the elevator--"  
"Five minutes--"  
"Practically in the elevator--" he stepped into the elevator and faced Cameron and smiled, but she stopped dead at the doors. They were slowly closing. She looked down with her hands on her hips slightly yelling,  
"She's in love with you!"

As the doors nearly closed, his cane stuck between them and they reopened. He just looked at her with his head slightly tilted down. He held the door open and spoke quietly.

"What'd she say to you."  
"Well--she didn't need to say anything." he looked up, and urged her in for her to make the first play.  
"Its' been two months. Talk to her."  
"Can't."  
"You would trade talking to Cuddy, for going back to Mayfield? In what reality would that ever be true?"  
"Just can't."  
"Just give her a couple hours, she wants--needs to talk to you. And I'm sure you need to too."  
"You think you're always sure about everything. You're wrong a lot. But not enough to cancel out your rights." Cameron smiled proudly at his compliment and he just rolled his eyes at her as they made to ground floor. They walked out into the lobby and stopped in front of the clinic. Watching them from the balcony above, Cuddy and Wilson conversed about House's part. They leaned on the edge, arms hanging over. Team House was up to bat.

"He's lost his appetite, over there." he spoke quietly.  
"I can see it on him." she spoke the same.  
"He's--different."  
"A month in an asylum will do that to you."  
"Not like that. And not, because of that." he glanced at her and looked back at House who was entering the clinic. Cameron had departed back for the ER.  
"You--care about him right?"  
"This better not be a trick question." she asked curiously.  
"You care enough, right?"  
"I guess. I mean, yes. Yes." she admitted awkwardly.  
"Do you think, he feels the same?"  
"A caring House, yes there is such a thing. Frequent no, existent yes."  
"Not a caring that you've actually seen in him." she glanced at him, and scoffed, realizing what this was about.  
"Respect, Wilson."  
"You really think it's just, that simple?" she didn't respond. She just stared at him and waited for him to elaborate and continue.  
"He was hallucinating..."  
"Thought we clarified that by sending him to Mayfield? Otherwise we did the wrong thing."  
"He hallucinated--detoxing off vicodin, and you." his voice had faded as the sentence flooded out of his mouth. She stood awkwardly before him waiting for him to give some kind of explanation.  
"I don't--I don't. What?"  
"You."  
"Yeah, I got that."  
"Talk to him. He's looking for you." they both looked down and House was looking up at them with his signature glare. Her face slightly dropped as she walked towards the stairs. She walked up to him in the middle of the lobby. Inches away he bowed his head and looked at her. She raised hers and did the same.

"You're still here.." she sated quietly.  
"So are you." they just stood before each other in the middle of the lobby, and people began to stare. So, she urged him back into the clinic and into her office. He picked up his belongings he had set on the floor of the lobby, and followed her into her office. He took a seat on her couch along with his things and she just had her back turned from him as she walked towards his desk.

"Its good--you're well enough now." she struggled to say.  
"Enough to leave right?" he asked.  
"We want you here."  
"You don't."  
"You really think I would want you over there rather than here?"  
"Right." he uttered skeptically. she turned around slowly and looked right at him. He looked down and began to talk again.  
"If we both are gonna say something, I think it's only fair if you go first."  
"You've gotten way too skinny, House." she stated changing the subject.  
"Fine." he picked up his stuff, got up from the couch and walked out. Cuddy reluctantly followed as they made their way out into the parking lot. The breeze swept through as they walked out of the front doors. She called out to him, and he stopped abruptly only feet away from her. The wind picked up and lifted the ends of his sky blue shirt. Turning around slowly, he looked at her. The sun beamed on him. He just watched her and she let out a sigh.

"I know." she admitted aloud. He just looked around as she went on.  
"Talk to me." he stood in a silence before her. Except for his eyes. His icy iris' could be seen between his squinting eye lids, protected from the blinding sun. Cuddy reluctantly continued, realizing she would uphold this dreadful conversation.  
"What did you hallucinate? Why me? What _about_ me? House..." she began to walk toward him. Unsure of what exactly she was doing. Inches from him once again, she spoke in whispers. He looked away from her, afraid. Afraid to meet her eyes.  
"I need some answers." she paused. Waiting for him to say, something. She continued.  
"Please don't leave me blind." she was sincerely pleading to him. Something she had never done before. Eyes still averted, he spoke gently and softly.  
"If it was important," he started. He took the risk. Looked down at her before continuing.  
"I would tell you." her mouth dangled, struggling to say something. As painful as it was with his eyes locked on hers, he had to walk away. He bowed his head and she stood stationary as he approached Wilson and his car. They were waiting to depart back to Mayfield. Wilson popped open the door and he threw his stuff in the back. Slamming it shut, he walked over to the passenger seat and carefully got in. As they pulled out from the parking lot, they watched a petrified Cuddy standing in the sun. You couldn't tell if she was crying, or if her face had remained the same as how he had left it, but we knew the misery that was there. In the car, they sat in a short silence as they blinding sun continued to descend, lighting their way back to Mayfield. Eventually, Wilson decided to break it.

"You'll regret not telling her."  
"I know."  
"What are you afraid of? What she might do? Say?"  
"I'm afraid to admit the truth. Relaying her those hallucinations relinquish that truth."  
"This is important. And you should tell her."  
"I know. It's important. For both of us. But, I am not going to put her through something like that. Deciding what she should do about it, should I tell her."  
"Like I told you before, it's important that she knows. If she knew the truth--you have no idea what her reaction could be."  
"I know. Since I don't I'm not taking that risk."  
"What is it with you and all these precautions. This isn't like you. By now you would've told her, she would've been all over you. You keep pushing her away."  
"Love, can do those kind of things to you." Wilson slowly turned his head towards House who was looking straight into the sunset. Wilson alternated looking at the road and him before speaking again.  
"You're actually admitting it?" Wilson asked in a shocked and curious voice.  
"I admitted it a long time ago. I believed farther back. I'm just starting to see it."  
"You've only been in love once. You sure this is the same?"  
"I'm not sure. I know it is. Why would I voluntarily dream about nothing but her while in a coma? Why would I dream that I wanted to marry her, if I wasn't in love with her?"  
"You--what?"  
"It's not just the hallucinations telling me what's what now. Just--everything."  
"Okay, slow down."  
"Everything from my dream told me something. Everything that occurred--it was either a fear, a dream, or part of reality. But--" as he spoke his voice had slowed down..  
"What? What's wrong."  
"I wanted to be with her. The drug trials was reality. The accident was part of reality. The adoption was--want? Stacy was--a fear. What happened to her was a want. My mom, a reality. Cutting--a fear. Something I would have to resort to? Suicide--fear. Another thing I would resort to. Her death. Why should it be a fear? It's not a want. It can't be. It can't be a fear either--a reality?"  
"What the hell are you talking about House?"  
"She's--going to die."  
"Who's she?"  
"Cuddy."


	28. Reality is Blind Dreams are Clairvoyant

Pulled over on the driveway of Mayfield Psychiatric hospital, House and Wilson leaned against the car as the watched the moon ascend. The sky filled with darkness, but faded slightly as the moon arrived in its place. Conversing in plain sight, Wilson held off delivering House back.

"So you think, she does have cancer, but not fatal? Not--terminal?"  
"Yet."  
"Based off of evidence that came to you while you were dreaming--in a coma?"  
"Glad you're still surprised by this particular factor. I've done it in the past, and I can do it again."  
"Are you talking about the ex-marine?"  
"Yep."  
"Right. One time your dreams tell you something--"  
"What about the ketamine?"  
"You told us you probably read that somewhere--"  
"Right. Because I read somewhere that a drug induced coma could relieve chronic pain, possibly permanently, and I didn't dare to try it out as soon as I read it. That totally sounds like me."  
"Yeah but being a python, or being clairvoyant, certainly doesn't sound like you either."  
"I'm not saying I'm a python, or clairvoyant. I'm saying that--dreams are clairvoyant."  
"So everyone's dreams are just gonna start coming true?"  
"Haven't you ever watched Cinderella? 'A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep. And then something about losing heartache and then--if you keep on believing, the dream that wish will come true.' See? Even Disney buys it."  
"Oh, shut up. You--cannot, foresee the 'future', okay?"  
"Tell that to her when you have to diagnose her with terminal lung cancer two, maybe three months from now."  
"I, I--can't diagnose her with something life-threatening, based solely of off your mere dreams and assumptions House. If, should she have cancer, don't you think I'd be the first to notice?"  
"We had this conversation a couple years ago when we thought she had cancer then. You believed me then. You were stupid enough to take her spoon. Because you were scared that I was right. And you're denying me now because you are scared that I'm right. Because things like this have happened before, and I was always right."  
"You--were wrong then."  
"I was right about something going on."  
"Right. Cancer, wanting a baby. Hm, yeah, same thing."  
"Oh shut up. She didn't even tell you about that for the longest time."  
"Back to the real matter? Please."  
"Try--something. Be quick and discreet. Find something." House opened the door, and grabbed his stuff. To his surprise something was missing.  
"Damn it." he said finally.  
"What?" Wilson was just looking at the ground with his arms folded as he closed the door handling his things.  
"Forgot my jacket."  
"You want me to go back and get it?"  
"Early August Wilson, you really want me to die of a heat stroke? I'll be fine."  
"Here, gimme." Wilson grabbed his duffle bag and rested it on his shoulders. They began to walk towards the hospital.  
"There's a party, next week. Back at the hospital."  
"You guys are just now celebrating my leave? Thought you would've had that celebration the second I stepped out of that place." he uttered sarcastically. Wilson turned his head and gave him a look as they continued onward.  
"Cuddy and I talked to Yvensteir. Mostly Cuddy. I just gave her the idea, but he's letting you go that night. It's from six till midnight. You should go."  
"What's the occasion, Jimmy?"  
"Hospital anniversary. You remember."  
"Twenty-five years, yeah I remember." they made it up to the steps and through the doors, meeting the front desk. Dr. Yvensteir was already waiting on the arrival.  
"Dr. House. Good to see you're well again."  
"I've been better." he retorted.  
"He's in a little pain. He's been on morphine for so long, and the concussion--occasional headaches." Wilson commented.  
"Thank you, Dr. Wilson. You and Dr. Cuddy have been a great help with him through this." Dr. Yvensteir just smiled at Wilson, who replied with a nod, patting House on the back. Then a nurse came by, and took House's belongings, including his duffle bag from Wilson.  
"I'm going to head back. I'll call you--?"  
"Just--do what I told you earlier." Wilson rolled his eyes and waved goodbye at them. Dr. Yvensteir just smiled at House, and urged him over. House sighed, and gave an entertained smile as he limped slowly towards him.  
Outside, Wilson was walking back towards his car. The only things running through his mind were everything that House had said. Every single thing that came out of his mouth. He kept closing and opening his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. His thoughts roamed through the air, just floating as he tried to think things through. It would be a long drive back home, so he had plenty of time to do so.

* * *

  
_The following day - 12:00 p.m.  
Princeton-Plainsbro_

"There's his jacket," Wilson stated walking into Cuddy's office.  
"Yeah, he left it behind yesterday."  
"I'm not here about that."  
"It didn't sound like it." Wilson waited a minute before actually responding. Not knowing what she could possibly do or say, he did things slow. But she got up from her desk and began walking towards her doors.  
"Clinics piled up, you should do yours and I have mine--"  
"I went through your garbage last night."  
"You--what?" she angrily asked him. She had stopped midway towards her doors, holding files in her hand. Head turned toward Wilson, she listened to his explanation--sort of.  
"I--went through your garbage last night and I brought some of it back to the lab--"  
"Is this some way to compensate for House not being here, or is there an actual reason behind this?"  
"Both. Sort of. In a good way. I'm compensating for him snooping around and actually looking out for you and there's an actual reason behind it. I looked for cancer markers--"  
"So you think I have cancer. Wh--under what assumptions? And if you say House I'll--fire you."  
"No you won't." he retorted.  
"Fine. I won't. But it was House."  
"What difference does it make? If this was under my assumptions you'd be in a frenzy."  
"No. I'd be just as morally outraged at you for invading my privacy." she defended weakly walking back toward her desk.  
"Right. That has nothing to do with it being House."  
"You two have done this before. You were wrong then, you're still wrong now. I have a clean medical history in my family--"  
"Cuddy. He's right." he said softly. She looked at him, expressionless as ever.  
"Okay, first you tell me about the hallucinations and now you spring this on me, if this is some kind of twisted joke, I am killing him."  
"Right, because secretly House is watching us from that bathroom just watching the look on your face right now." he uttered sarcastically.  
She waited for him to continue. Hopefully, to relieve her.  
"We need to get better evidence than markers. I need a scan, Cuddy." she dropped the files down on the desk, and gave a quiet scoff. She walked over towards her couch, and fell back.  
"If anything--we probably caught it in time." she threw him a skeptically look, and he tried again.  
"You haven't shown any signs. The only thing we are actually basing this on is House, which is the same as getting you a scan, and cancer markers. So it's either you don't have it--" he walked over and joined her on the couch. Resting his arm over her shoulders.  
"Or you're just really lucky House called it. It's either you don't have it, and House is just a plain lunatic and the tests were wrong--or they were right...and he saved your life." those were the very few words she needed to hear right now. Stressing over the planning for the party, stressing over the things House had said the previous day, and the regular duties of being a mother, administrator and dean of medicine were weighing her down. This was probably the last thought to be put on her shoulders.

"I'll book the MRI in ten minutes." he said calmingly. She gave a nod, and he turned his arm reach into a hug.

* * *

  
_An hour later - Mayfield_

House was sitting on a bench, admiring the sight before him on Mayfield's grounds. Coffee cup in hand, and beloved cane at side, the summer breeze blew over and tousled his hair. The air lapsed into silence as he isolated himself from his surroundings. He could see everything--but the only thing he could hear was her--pleading.  
Everything was silenced, and all he could hear was her voice. Mouth shut, gritting his teeth, feeling how painful it really was to hear her--begging.  
What was more was having to walk away. Brush it off, as if--nothing.  
As easy as it was to do since personal experience had brought him well, the pain ached. A sickening pain inside him, loading him with guilt.  
All these thoughts roamed his head. His serenity had broken.  
And then, a soft touch had occurred on his shoulder. Snapping out of this isolation, he jerked, and turned to see a nurse at his side.

"You have a phone call, Greg." he nodded off to the nurse, and took a look around him. No one had seen him in the trance apparently. If one of his asylum buddies were there, they could've snapped him out of it, he thought as he made his way back inside.  
"Hello?" he grunted into the phone.  
_"You were right._  
"You should be more specific. I'm right about a lot of things."  
_"Cuddy."_ his stomach dropped. Afraid to actually hear the diagnosis this time.  
"Is she--how did--what is it." he finally said.  
_"Small tumor in the upper right lobe. Cancerous, but operable."_  
"How is she?"  
_"She's in surgery. She's gonna be fine. Good call House."_ he sighed before speaking.  
"You made the move. I had a theory."  
_"If you hadn't said anything--"_  
"You would've eventually caught on anyway. I cocked the gun, you pulled the trigger."  
_"You thrive on gratitude. Especially from Cuddy, because then she owes you."_  
"I don't want her to have to owe me. I don't need gratitude from her."  
_"Well you may have only cocked the gun, and I pull the trigger. But I know--sometimes we pull the trigger, we don't know if that bullet is in there--you did. You--put the bullet in, all of them. If you hadn't done that, we'd be staring down the barrel of the gun of the shoot out. We would've had a good chance of dying."_  
"Okay, you just ruined the whole metaphor." he stated sarcastically.  
_"Right. Because it wasn't ruined enough already."_  
"Oh, shut up. Don't you have lives to save? I got some unwinding and group therapy to do."  
_"I've saved enough lives today, I'm going to eat. Lunch with your older kids."_  
"Oh great. They'll be asking uncle Jimmy all these questions about me. Hm. They know about mommy?"  
_"No one. Yet."_  
"Keep it hush, hush. Melt the scans, throw out the papers, and the surgery--her appendix removed. Don't want a panic over there."  
_"Yeah, sure. You should go, you got group therapy with your new buddies right?"_  
"Shut up, Wilson."  
_"Bye, House."_


	29. In the Courtyard

"How is she?"  
_"How many times have you asked me that since?"_  
"A lot, seeing as you've failed to answer them."

House and Wilson were on the phone, talking about Cuddy. It had been a few days since her surgery and she was recovering brilliantly. With only one round of radiation needed, she was up and about within four days.  
This was the third phone call Wilson had with House since his re-admittance. Both of them regularly busy, they had only so much time to talk. Most of the time, they discussed things going on, on both sides, but recently the real gossip was Cuddy.

_"...And no one's found out about it."_  
"Of course. She's functioning properly now, she wouldn't dare to let it slip to the kids that she had cancer."  
_"Are you coming, you know to the anniversary?"_  
"Why should I?"  
_"You've been working there twelve years. It wouldn't kill you to come to at least one of the anniversaries."_  
"She wants me there, right?"  
_"I didn't say so."_ he replied immediately.  
"I'm not going."  
_"Hey, you owe her this at least--"_  
"Technically she owes me--"  
_"for not owning up, and telling her about the hallucinations. And now--the dream."_  
"I will tell her, on my own time."  
_"Right, because that sounds like you. Just go, it'll be fun. It's an 'around the word' kind of theme. I got something nice you can wear."_  
"What are you wearing?"  
_"We're both wearing the same thing."_  
"Matching? We're going to be matching? Are you attempting a twin look or are we going for quads with Foreman and Chase? Maybe even quintuplets if we add Taub and Thirteen."  
_"You'll see. I'll pick you up at six."_  
"I have a feeling she had a feeling." he stated, going completely off subject.  
_"Had a feeling about what?"_  
"The hallucinations. How shocked she was. I don't buy it. Or what you described it as at least."  
_"I think it was the real deal, why wouldn't she be shocked?"_  
"She would be--but not as much. She probably had a feeling they were about her....she just didn't know exactly what. That's why she--pleaded in the parking lot. Begging for answers. It's driving her mad." he concluded.  
_"Someone call 9-1-1, I smell the stench of guilt!"_  
"Yeah, yeah, gloat all you want. Doesn't change things."  
_"Then just--talk to her. Try to have an actual conversation about this instead of casting it aside. Actually listen to what she has to say."_  
"I wasn't asking for advice."  
_"Right."_  
"Look I don't--"  
"Greg?" one of the nurses had tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head and sighed.  
"Yes?"  
"You have a visitor." she stepped aside, and Cuddy stepped out of her shadow. She gave half a smile towards him. His mouth dangled as Wilson kept talking on the line.  
_"House? What's wrong?"_  
"I uh--" Cuddy shook her head. She evidently didn't want him to know she was here.  
"I gotta take a nap apparently. Part of a new therapy." he hung up the phone, not at all interested in a reply. The nurse left the two in the hallway after bringing her in. Cuddy made the first play. She had his jacket hanging over her arm as it folded over her other as she stood very prominent before him.  
"You left it in my office." she uttered meekly.  
"Is that all you're here for," he asked as he walked closer to her. He continued.  
"because either way, you've wasted your time."  
"I didn't come here for small talk, House. I came here, for answers. And I don't care how much time I have to waste until I get them." she looked up at him proudly as he squinted his eyes at her. He gave a curt nod, and spoke again.  
"Wanna go outside?" he asked, looking from his right to his left.  
"Will they care?" she asked a little concerned. He shook his head, and rested his hands on her shoulders, guiding her down the corridor to the courtyard. The evening breeze blew across their faces as they exited the doors.  
Walking to the farthest part of the courtyard in perfect sight of the basketball court, they sat down on cold cement underneath the trees. Sitting next to each other with knees raised. Cuddy flung his jacket over herself and folded her arms as House rested his arms on his knees and had one of them hold the others wrist. Sitting in a dead silence for several minutes, Cuddy decided to break it--again.

"You know what I'm going to ask, House."  
"Yes, I'm well aware."  
"Care to venture all the answers then?"  
"One at a time....You any good at basketball?"  
"Uh--I thought I was the one asking questions?"  
"I have a few too, so be prepared." she wasn't expecting it, but she answered anyway.  
"I'm decent," she replied awkwardly. He slowly got up being wary of his leg and walked onto the court as she continued.  
"I don't think it'd be fair."  
"Oh shut up. I wouldn't underestimate the leg, you know." he limped over and grabbed the worn basketball. She rested his jacket on the grass and got up also, walking onto the court. Tossing it over to her, she caught it above her head, and began to dribble.  
"You asked me something, so I go. Alternate." he nodded, and she tossed a free throw at the basket. Swish.  
"Anyone can make a free throw." she snickered at his remark as he got the rebound and tossed it back to her, before asking her question.  
"What--did you hallucinate about me?"  
"I think you have a feeling," he said suspiciously.  
"I'm not so sure anymore." she stated dribbling the ball again. She bounce passed it to him, waiting for his reply. Dribbling the ball, he carefully kept his right leg a float, as he kind of hopped off the ground, swishing in a two pointer. He watched it fall in as he replied.  
"You, were the central idea. You took care of me, you helped me detox--and we slept together." getting rebound again, he dribbled it, waiting for her reply.  
"'I slept with Lisa Cuddy'. That makes more sense now. Wait--was that--?"  
"Nope, my turn." he stated teasingly. He threw the ball at her, she barely caught it this time. She dribbled, waiting to hear his question.  
"Have things gotten better since I left?" she swished another.  
"I'm--I don't--why would things be better?" catching the rebound at the same time, he replied awkwardly.  
"Wh-y no-t?"  
"Two questions one to many."  
"Aha, clever." he tossed the ball back to her.  
"I don't know. I don't see how things could be good to start with. I was--just--miserable." her head shook along with her pauses. Just staring at the basketball in her hands, she continued.  
"I didn't cry myself to sleep every night--but it wasn't really a joy coming to work. It wasn't just me that was miserable--it was everyone."  
"It may have been everyone--but rumor has it that misery favored you." she still didn't look at him. She rolled the ball in her hands for a couple seconds before making a shot again--this time it bounced right off the rim. He caught the rebound and she had no choice but to look at him.

"You shouldn't listen to rumors."  
"Despite the fact that we both know that one's true?" he asked softly.  
"Again, one too many questions. But yeah." he dribbled the ball, and began to limp around the court for a new spot. Tossing it up and barely making it in he smiled proudly.  
"Your turn."  
"Right." she closed her eyes, and bit the corner of her bottom lip, before continuing.  
"How did you know about my cancer..." he tossed the ball up, and it bounced off the backboard. They both let it roll onto the grass behind the trees. He hesitated a little before answering.  
"I wasn't sure. It came to me in a dream." Cuddy had a questioning face on as she stared at him from the opposite side of the court.  
"While I was in a coma. Everything that happened in the coma was either--a want, a fear or reality. I had no reason to fear you having cancer, unless it was actually happening. It's not a want, I don't hate you. It's actually relatively close to the opposing of hate but. All that was left was reality. I jumped at it."  
"You dreamt about me having cancer. How thoughtful."  
"Wasn't a pleasant dream anyway."  
"Interesting."  
"I'm out of questions. Unless you ask something that enables me to, go ahead."  
"Can we walk?"  
"You can, I have to limp." he said sarcastically. He walked towards her and they went outside of the court and began to walk around the entire courtyard. They took a long path around the back of the building, just talking.  
"What else happened in the dream?"  
"You died at one point."  
"I _died_? I didn't know you were that evil."  
"From the cancer. Actually not really. Sort of. You died from a myocardial rupture after your parents gave you a heart attack a couple days earlier. The cancer--that's what stopped us from saving you. You had begun cardiac tamponade and--so forth."  
"That's very elaborate for a dream."  
"What'd you expect?"  
"What else."  
"I was evidently dating you and in love with you. I adopted the kid, got in a car accident...Became suicidal and cut myself and then eventually I committed suicide by jumping off the building. It was very dramatic but I managed to get back to reality and out of the coma. Even in the dream I knew it wasn't real."  
"Wow. That does make sense for being in a coma for a month though."  
"You admitted me."  
"What?"  
"When I ran away. You admitted me. There was a storm that night--"  
"Is it finally coming back to you?"  
"Vaguely."  
"Right. Wilson and I were--pissed. If you had been conscious when you were first admitted--I think I would've killed you myself."  
"Good to know."  
"Really. You shouldn't have run off like that."  
"I was reaching my breaking point."  
"Which is good, because you're supposed to break down and admit that you do have something wrong with you."  
"I couldn't stand being there--"  
"The hell you could!" she had snapped, and turned to face him. She continued in an aggressive tone, but at reasonable decibels.  
"It wouldn't have killed you to just stay there and get some help. We both know how huge your ego is House, we know how superior you think you are compared to everyone else, we all get that! But why couldn't you have handled a few months, to help yourself instead of nearly killing yourself running away? Please answer me that. I would like to hear the clever retort you have for it."  
"You shouldn't hold anger like this back. You should've yelled at me before."  
"I did." they continued walking as Cuddy calmed herself a little.  
"I yelled at you to the point where I fell into tears. Wilson actually had enough sanity to watch it all. You were bandaged everywhere, bleeding and bruised--I gave you the coldest lecture and then--I walked out of there. Wilson caught me by the arms as soon as the doors slid open."  
"He never said anything." he admitted quietly.  
"Oh--really, that doesn't sound like him. God--and I'm crying over just thinking about this."  
"Don't. You should never, never waste anything on me. It'll bite you on the ass later on anyway. With the size, there's bound to be some place where it can bite."  
"Hah. I've wasted enough things on you already. There's no point in stopping now." they both stopped. The sun was descending now. Wiping her face, she got in front of him on the path. Both under a bough from a tree close by, she confronted him with two more questions.

"With everything that's been said--I can't help but ask two more questions." she stepped up, closer to him.  
"Do you want a relationship--and are you in love with me?" his eyes gave a twitch, like a squint as he looked side to side, averting his eyes from her.  
"House." she said. He looked up at the tree above them, staring intently at the details of the bough. Suddenly, he felt a force swipe against his face. She had slapped him.  
"We are not doing this again."  
"I don't know what you want me to say."  
"Answer me." her voice broke. The fear he had only days ago returned--meeting her eyes. He looked all around, except towards her face.  
"You son of a bitch, can you look at me and answer what the hell I'm asking you?" her voice started from a yell and faded into an angry whisper.  
"I don't know." he finally said.  
"You don't know what."  
"For either." he began to walk away, but she forced him back into the tree, taking advantage of his leg. He gave a brief yelp in pain as she held tightly onto his clothes, pressing him up against the bark.

"No! You can't--you're not walking away again. You're not."  
"Damn it." he whispered, holding onto his leg. Taking the risk, he met her eyes and stared deep as they filled with tears.  
"I'm sorry--but I can't let you walk away again."  
"I--don't know. Look, I gave you the answers you wanted--"  
"Not all of them."  
"Right. I can't--"  
"You can't answer two yes or no questions, or are you that ignorant?"  
"What--would you say, if I was--asking you the same thing?" he uttered with a struggle. His leg was throbbing.  
"You know, **exactly** what I would say."  
"Why can't you say the same for me?"  
"Because I--don't know about you anymore. You were cut out of my life for a month and then shoved back in. And now you're gone again. I'm even doubting this." in a locked stare between slate and sapphire, time had stopped. For a fraction of a second that seemed like forever, a connection had sparked, collided within their stare. Ending it, Cuddy released House from her grip. She reached into her pocket, and grabbed what appeared to be a silver band. A size to fit House's ring finger perfectly.

"This is for the anniversary. For the twenty-five years the hospital has been established you've worked there for twelve out of the twenty-five. Keep it. And I hope you come tomorrow." she didn't dare look at him when she placed it in his hand. As soon as she did, she strut her way back to the hospital to leave. House just watched her walk away, and finally realized the pain Cuddy was talking about when he had left those few days ago.  
With the ring tightly in his grip, he ventured out for his jacket by the basketball court, and made his way back to the hospital. Going straight for his room.  
By the time he had returned to the hospital she was already on the road back. Stifling her tears on the situation, she had to make it back home for Rachel.  
Both of them thought of the day, and all the confessions said, along with the thoughts left roaming in the air. As House dug his eyes into the ceiling of his bedroom as he lied on his bed, and as Cuddy drove aggressively back home with her eyes glued to the road, the evening turned into night as the last sliver of sun descended.


	30. Last Evening

_Sunday - Quarter to six_

House was in his jeans and t-shirt waiting for Wilson to come pick him up for the anniversary. Sitting on one of the chairs, he propped his arm up on the rest and rested his chin on his thumb. He kept running the ring on his finger, up and down his chin, feeling the cold metal against his skin. He was in a trance, just thinking about the ring, and her. The last thing he remembered was her face--the image locked in his mind. So vivid.

He wondered how he could face her today.

After minutes of waiting, Wilson burst through the front doors. He looked directly as House as soon as he walked in, and urged him out the doors.  
He limped quickly out the doors to catch up with a hurried Wilson who had already approached the car. As soon as House got in, he just stared at him.

"In a rush?" he asked sarcastically. Wilson just glared at him and began to drive away from Mayfield.  
"Seriously, you meeting someone or something?"  
"What the hell happened yesterday," he asked rather calmly. House slouched in his seat and folded his hands, resting them tight on his neck before responding to him.  
"She talked to you." he stated blankly.  
"What else?"  
"We're not fighting."  
"The hell you aren't. She was devastated coming back yesterday."  
"Right."  
"Fine, I'm exaggerating, but she was crying before she got back which I figured as soon as she burst into my office complaining about you."  
"What'd you say to her?"  
"I figured you did something stupid so I let her do the talking."  
"So--now you're angry at what I did? Which was nothing? This is you upset at me? You've changed it up a little. You're a little less--lecturing."  
"I'm not upset at you."  
"Right."  
"I'm not."  
"Why would you be?" he asked sarcastically.  
"I'm not saying you did the right thing--actually you did and said nothing which was really the wrong thing--but I shouldn't be upset. I've got no right to be. You did nothing. But you're going to do something tonight. You're going to tell her that you are in love with her and that you do want a relationship."  
"Right."  
"I don't get it. You're willing to admit everything else to her except the one thing that actually matters?"  
"I did admit it. Through everything else. She was being stupid. The answer was clearly right in front of her, she broke down on her own terms."  
"House."  
"Misery, it's been driving her mad. If she figured out anything yesterday--she would've known to not even ask those questions. There was no point."  
"She's not concerned in the answer, House. The only reason she makes it seem that way is because she actually just wants you to admit it to her. Admitting it gives her a sense of satisfaction. Lets her know that everything else you've told her wasn't crap that you pulled from thin air to jerk her around."  
"That's stupid."  
"She doesn't want to put herself out there, and get hurt. I don't blame her. I would be cautious with you too."  
"Why, because I'm miserable and can't handle a relationship at the moment?"  
"If she ever got hurt, it wouldn't be your typical wound." he stated softly. He had kept his eyes on the road when House turned to look at him.  
They were silent all the way back to Wilson's apartment. When they walked in, House kicked back on the couch as Wilson darted into the bedroom for his clothes. He came back out within minutes as House flipped through the channels on the TV.

"Here." Wilson grabbed the hanger out of the plastic that was covering. He pulled the outfit out and showed him.  
"This is what I was telling you about. It's a--"  
"Barong I know."  
"How did--?"  
"Old college hall mate. Filipino, obviously. Had the same one. His was an off white though."  
"I got you the blue one. I'm wearing the off white. Blue looks better on you."  
"Right."  
"Yeah, its a formal kind of clothing. Used at weddings normally, but you won't stick out."  
"Where'd you get them anyway?" he asked curiously.  
"Cancer patient of mine. Thank you gift. She was half Filipino and she didn't look like it. Gave it to me a few months ago. Never wore either of them though."  
"Why not," he asked slipping off his shirt.  
"No chance to. Hurry up. I'm gonna go change into mine." Wilson walked into his bedroom, and a bathroom door closed shut. House slipped on a white t-shirt, and then the barong. He then slipped on his dress pants and shoes. He sat there just thinking, waiting for Wilson to come back out. Within minutes he did, and he was fixing his sleeves as he did so.

"Ready?" he asked opening the door.  
"The party or Cuddy?" House responded turning off the TV. Wilson gave a smirk as he urged House out the door and closed it slowly.

* * *

  
_At the hospital - 7:01 p.m._

House and Wilson walked on the pathway towards the entrance of Princeton-Plainsbro, looking sharp as ever. The sunlight hit them at an angle where they appeared to glow, like lightning bugs.  
Taking long strides with hands in their pockets, House with his fancy sliver headed cane and Wilson with his insanely polished shoes, came up the the entrance doors. House caught a glimpse of Cuddy through the windows.  
She was walking around, greeting and talking to people in a beautiful dress that appeared to be Asian themed. White silk with blue embroidery along the dress. She looked beautiful with her hair up in light blue chopsticks, along with blue sandals to match. She actually matched him...Wilson gave a smile toward him as soon as he saw her. House then turned to him with a glare.

"You _made_ us match?" House asked as they pushed through the doors.  
"Blue looks good on you," he uttered with a grin. As soon as they walked in, everyone caught eye. Not to the point of complete focus, but their entrance was definitely seen. Especially, by Cuddy. She reluctantly looked at them, tempted to walk over and discuss things, but she didn't have the nerve. Not now at least.  
Avoiding her for the time being, they walked into the party area, where everyone was either talking, eating, or requesting foreign songs to the DJ. They eventually met up with everyone by their table.  
Cameron was dressed in a kimono, Chase in a Scottish kilt, Thirteen in Indian type robes, Foreman with a Greek style, and finally Taub with a sombrero and a scarf over a white embroidered shirt with black slacks.  
As soon as Wilson and House appeared before them, their attention caught on House. It had been a while since they all saw him, and not unconscious, with the exception of Cameron. They all just stared at him as they approached the table. Wilson did most of the talking.

"We're matching, because I made him." Wilson stated with a grin.  
"Those actually look familiar. Chase, where have we seen these before?" Cameron asked.  
"Women's department of Macy's?" he asked sarcastically.  
"Seriously." Cameron uttered with a laugh.  
"Um, Asian. Oh yeah, we saw it on TV. That one big festival that was held in the Philippines. Some people wore those. Actually some women did too."  
"It's called a barong." Wilson said. House then interjected.  
"Barong Tagalog, also meaning a dress that is Tagalog."  
"So wait, these are dresses?" Taub asked evidently entertained.  
"Sombrero?" Thirteen retorted. He just gave a gesture and laughed. She continued talking, complimenting House and Wilson.  
"It's a very classy attire for you two. Looks good." After that, everyone gave a look towards the both of them and nodded, also giving a quick glance towards House almost saying, "It's good to see you here." When House was about to sit down, Cameron got up from her chair and excused herself, slightly tapping his foot on her way back to the lobby. He stopped midway sitting down and raised himself up again, reluctantly following. They reached the staircase and talked as people surrounded the lobby.

"What?" he finally asked her.  
"It's good to see you here."  
"Is that all you need to tell me?" he asked impatient.  
"What interest do you have with the party? You'd rather be here than back in there."  
"Right. But either way, I'd prefer not to attend to all the fascinating questions you all have for me."  
"Right." she nodded suspiciously.  
"You been taking care of mommy? Is that why you pulled me aside?"  
"I talked to her before the party. I know every that's been happening."  
"The verdict?" he ask curiously.  
"When have you ever craved my opinion?"  
"You're the second eldest. And you're the first girl. You don't annoy me as much as the other morons. Only when you get morally outraged at the things I do."  
"I'm actually proud. You managed to step up, and fess up everything. Well, not everything I hear."  
"What'd she say," he asked, a little annoyed.  
"Go ask her. She's the one working her ass off in the office." he rolled his eyes at the thought, and walked down the stairs toward the clinic. Cameron just smiled and gracefully made her way back to the party.  
Upon entering the clinic, House spotted some of the nurses huddled in one corner gossiping about something happening in the hospital. It's what they lived for after actually nursing. Reaching the first set of doors, he could already see her in the office, flipping and signing papers, typing things up on the computer and coming back to a stressful sigh and face rub. He entered slowly through the doors, and finally made his way in. She didn't look up to see.

"Whoever it is, I'm a little busy at the moment."  
"Why is it," he started. She looked up and saw him as he continued.  
"that when everyone else is getting drunk, eating themselves into obesity and practically slumming, you choose to work yourself dead."  
"Hi." she stated softly.  
"Hi."  
"You came."  
"You asked me to."  
"Since when did it become that simple?"  
"You wanted me to, so I came."  
"I also wanted you to answer two questions, but you couldn't do that. I don't understand the difference with this--you're wearing the ring."  
"I know." her face was slightly shocked, and she quickly shook her head, getting up from her desk and walking past House and out into the clinic. He followed quickly after her. They were in the middle of the parking lot by the time she stopped walking away. They were separated in merely feet as they yelled back and forth as the sun descended on them.  
"I don't know what to do with you, House."  
"Stop acting afraid!"  
"I'm not afraid! You are just assuming that I'm not acting rational!"  
"No! You're afraid. You're afraid of having a real relationship with me. I know it. I can see it. You even said it yourself yesterday. 'I'm even doubting this,' this being, us."  
"House, there is no _us_. The way you act--you haven't learned to break that barrier between us. Even with me you still isolate yourself."  
"And that's why you're afraid. You fear, that I'm going to treat you like that. You're afraid of getting hurt." he got closer to her. Limping a few steps to where she was. Strands from her bun began to fall out as her hair loosened. He tried sweeping them away and continued.

"You can't--go anywhere, and hope that the same time you won't get hurt. It doesn't work that way."  
"I think you're directing that advice at the wrong person. And I thought you didn't believe in hope?"  
"I don't--didn't. You proved me wrong." he stated softly. She looked up with him with a slightly angry and curious face. He sighed, unsure of what to say, but he took a chance.  
"You really think, that I would dream about you while in a coma, and hallucinate you only a month prior if I wasn't in love with you and if I didn't want a relationship?" she couldn't say anything. So he just continued on.  
"And I know you wouldn't have given me this, if you didn't love me either." he put the ring in her face, and began to walk away. A foot away from her he stopped. He went back and kissed her, for merely seconds. Stopping himself. He stared at for a second--slate against sapphire. The friction was clearly there.  
He limped away again. But she called out to him after several seconds, leaving him motionless several feet from her. He turned very slowly as he waited for her reply. All she could do was look at him, and then began walking after him. She returned his kiss, and wrapped her arms around him. Suspending her inches off the ground, he refused to care for his leg. Breaking for only a moment, she asked him one last question.

"You think this could be some kind of hallucination or dream?" she asked, her head rested against his.  
"I don't need to know." and he kissed her again.

The sun took them in its favor and gave them more time in this beautiful light. This evening was better than most had been. The sky had a been a canvas splashed with warm summer colors to compliment the vast light that shone in the center of it all. And as the two stood there in this light, a random wind came in. Gentle and soft, occurring mostly on a summer evening. Like this, summer evening.

* * *

**Author's note: Thanks for all those who read, and especially for those who reviewed. I hope you enjoyed.  
Questions? There's a good chance I have answers. I'll be happy to answer them through personal message.**


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